


Danny & Taylor Hebert - Finding the Way

by Axxor



Category: Worm (Web Serial Novel)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Breast Play, Canon Lesbian Character, F/F, F/M, Futanari, Lesbian Sex, Multi, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 134,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axxor/pseuds/Axxor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even before their powers trigger, Danny and Taylor Hebert share a devastating secret.</p><p>Afterward, they find it both easier and harder to pretend that life will ever be normal again.</p><p>A 'clean' version, minus the father/daughter incest, can be found here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10274608/1/Finding-the-Way</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Flute

Taylor stared at the flute.  
   
It had been her mother’s before she died.  It was not an expensive instrument, but her mother had always kept it polished and cleaned, and made sure that the keys worked smoothly.  She could still recall her mother playing it; the sound had been haunting and beautiful, and had brought tears to her eyes.  
   
There were tears in her eyes now, tears of pain and anguish.  
   
The flute lay atop the heap of trash destined for the compactor.  When she had found it, she had first felt a surge of joy; Emma had only taken it to scare her.  
   
But then she looked more closely.  
   
It had been ... violated.  
   
The body had been beaten flat, with what must have been a brick.  The nickel-plated keys had been torn half off.  And something horrible, with a vile odour, had been smeared into every crack, every crevice, every finger-hole.  
   
She couldn’t even bear to touch it.  
   
She wanted to throw up.  
   
She went looking for a bag, something made of plastic.  If she could wrap it up, get it home, Dad could fix it.  Dad could fix  _anything_.  
   
When she got back, the flute was gone.  She couldn’t see it anywhere.  She had turned her back; she had lost it a second time.  
   
One more torture to the many that already lay upon her shoulders.  
   
 _Oh god, what can I do now?_  
   
She went to the bathroom, locked herself into a stall, and cried and cried.  
   
***  
   
Danny Hebert came home to find Taylor lying curled up on the sofa; the room lights were not on, and nor was the TV.  She was staring at nothing, arms around her knees.  
   
“Afternoon, kiddo,” he said, then slowed.  She had not answered him.  
   
“Taylor?” he asked her.  
   
She whimpered.  It was the sound of an animal in the extremity of pain.  
   
In an instant, he was seated on the sofa beside her, pulling her on to his lap.  She clung to him desperately.  
   
“God, Taylor,” he said softly, patting her on the back gently as she started to cry, “what happened?”  
   
“I didn’t mean to,” she sobbed.  “I didn’t mean it to happen. Oh god, I didn’t want it to happen.”  
   
“What?” he asked her. “What happened?”  
   
 _Oh god,_  he thought.  _She’s been raped.  Or she’s had sex with a boy and she’s pregnant. On top of everything else.  Oh god._  
   
“Who did it?” he asked automatically.  “Who did this to you?”   _I’ll kill him,_  he thought.   _I will seriously kill him._  
   
“I took it to school,” she said.  He couldn’t follow her.   _Took **what**?_  
   
But she was speaking. “Mom’s flute.  I took it to school.  Thought I could get through the day if I could go to my locker and look at it, hold it.”  
   
He knew the flute, knew it well.  He’d given it to Taylor as something to remember her mother by.  A cold feeling stole over him.  “What happened?”  
   
She was crying into his shirt, getting it wet.  He couldn’t have cared less.  “Someone – someone took it from my locker.  Wrecked it.  Destroyed it.   _Killed_  it.  I couldn’t touch it.  Couldn’t.  It had ...  _stuff_  on it.”  
   
Her misery was so complete that he could not even begin to raise any anger for her having taken something so precious to school.  But she had said, it was in her locker.   _Someone took it from her **locker**?_  
   
“Where is it now, kiddo?” he asked, very gently.  
   
“Went to get a bag,” she sniffled.  “But when I got back – it was gone.  Like it was never there.” She burst out crying all over again. “I should have grabbed it, kept it, not worried about the shit on it.  I was so  _stupid!”_  
   
He held her, rocked her, while his heart burned with anger.  Not at her; never at her.  But anger at those heartless  _scum_  who had made Taylor’s life a living hell for the last two years.  
   
“Who did it, Taylor?” he asked.  “Do you know who did it?”  
   
She looked up at him, her eyes reddened, her face tear-stained.  “I think it was Emma.  Or Sophia.  Or Madison.”  
   
“Emma?” he asked.  “Emma  _Barnes?”_   He paused in confusion.  “But she’s your friend!”  
   
She shook her head.  “No, Dad,” she said dully.  “She hasn’t been my friend since we started high school.”  And the tale tumbled out; the snide comments, the references to her mother, the shoves, pinches, trippings.  
   
How she would find her clothes in the toilet, or thrown at her in the showers. How her classwork would be defaced or stolen and handed in by one of the three as their own.  How her projects would be destroyed or sabotaged.  
   
How it was always Emma, or Sophia, or Madison behind it.  How they never quite did enough to be seen by a teacher.  How her complaints had fallen on deaf ears; apparently two alibis were worth one complaint, and they  _always_  backed each other up.  
   
He listened, the anger turning to cold rage in his gut.  
   
“Christ almighty,” he ground out.  “I’m going to ring Alan Barnes right now and –“  
   
“No Dad, no,” she pleaded, clutching at his sleeve, as though to stop him.  “It won’t do any good, really it won’t.  And it’s over now anyway.  Today was the last day before Christmas break.  Maybe they’ll have gotten bored of it by January. Found something else to do.”  
   
He saw her point, though he still wanted to ring Alan Barnes, and tell him a few home truths about his precious Emma.  And the Clements girl ... he didn’t even know her father.  But he should know as well.  
   
But Taylor had asked him not to.  
   
“Well, fine,” he said reluctantly.  “But over this break, we’re going to sit down and you’re going to tell me everything that’s been going on.  _Everything._   Anything that’s a possible criminal offence, we’ll take special note of.  And if they do  _one goddamn thing_  to you come January, we take the lot to the police.  I am not letting them get away with one single more goddamn thing.”  He held her tightly.  “Ever.”  
   
Taylor hugged him back. She loved him so much; he felt more like her father than he had, these last few months.  
   
“Thanks, Dad,” she said softly.  “I’ve –“  
   
“You’ve what?” he asked gently.  
   
“I’ve been writing down what they’ve been doing, since September,” she said.  “Every day.”  
   
His head came up, and he looked at her.  “Right,” he said.  “I want to see that.  In fact, I’m going to look around for a legal aid expert, and see how much of what you’ve written down is actionable in court. So if they start up again ...” He didn’t have to finish.    
   
“I can get that for you,” she said.  “Plus the emails they’ve been sending me.”  
   
“Bad?” he asked quietly.  
   
She nodded, her head down. “I ... I didn’t want to bother you.”  
   
He drew in a deep breath. “I ... haven’t been much of a father, lately,” he admitted.  “But I’m back now.  You’re my daughter, and I love you, and I will defend you to the very last breath in my body.”  
   
She relaxed into his embrace.  Tears came to her eyes again, but they were tears of a different kind.  
   
 _Dad’s going to help. It’s all going to be okay._  
   
***  
   
“But you’ve got to be able to do something with it!” Danny protested, trying to keep his voice down. Beside him, Taylor shrank into her chair, head down.  
   
“I’m really sorry,” said the legal aid representative, carefully sorting the papers on the desk. “The emails are all from throwaway accounts.  The people who sent them obviously chose them for that purpose.”  He looked directly at Taylor.  “Personally, I have no doubt that they are all from these people you speak of, but proving it in court is a far different matter.”  
   
“Okay,” said Danny. “The other things.  How about them?”  
   
The rep cleared his throat. “Frankly, Mr Hebert, I am astonished and appalled at the systematic campaign of bullying that has been going on here.  Your daughter does not seem to be the attention-seeking type that would create such a thing from whole cloth. But.”    
   
He put his hand on the pile of papers.  “All of this is simply ink on paper.  She would have to be cross-examined about each and every incident, and the defending attorney would do his best to shake her story, or produce witnesses that brought them into doubt.”    
   
His lips tightened. “If I had even the slightest shred of hope that justice could be wrung out of what is written in here, I would urge you to take it to the courts.  But if, as you say, the chief offender’s father is an attorney in his own right, then he has tricks he can play, even if you win.”  
   
He sighed.  “I will put you in touch with people I know, people who might see more than I can in this.  I  _can_  take it myself, if you insist, but I can already see how it would turn out, and that way is badly, for yourselves.”  
   
“Right,” said Danny heavily.  “Well, thank you for your time.” He stood, picked up the papers, and shook the man’s hand briefly.  
   
“I wish I could do more,” said the rep.  
   
“So do I,” said Danny shortly.  
   
The door closed behind him.  
   
The legal aid representative got up and put on his coat.  
   
Cases like this depressed him.   _I need a drink._  
   
***  
   
Danny eyed Taylor over the table that night at dinner.  She was silent, withdrawn, pale.  Her food had been pushed around the plate, but barely touched.  
   
He reached out and touched her arm; she jumped.  
   
“Are you okay, kiddo?” he asked gently.  
   
She nodded; barely a movement, her hair swayed gently.  He could not see her eyes.  
   
“It’s okay,” he said, with enthusiasm he didn’t feel.  “We’ll go and see someone else tomorrow.  Someone better.”  
   
She shook her head. “Won’t make any difference.”  Her voice was barely audible.  
   
“Of course it will,” he said heartily, but there was nothing behind it.   _Christ, who am I trying to convince?_  he asked himself.   _Me or her?  Because I know she isn’t, and I don’t think I am either._  
   
“Okay,” he said. “Just hang in there, all right? Things will get better.”  
   
She raised her eyes to his, very slightly.  The doubt he saw in them tore at his heart.  
   
 _I’m supposed to be her **father**!_  he raged.  Silently, impotently.   _I’m supposed to **protect**  her!  How the goddamn fucking hell can I do that against this?_  
   
And then he looked at her again, and he felt a faint chill of worry.  People in Taylor’s position had committed suicide before, and they would again.  
   
 _Christ,_  he thought.  _Not my girl.  Not Taylor.  I couldn’t stand that. I’d die first._  
   
“Can you do me a favour and clear the dishes?” he asked gently.  “I need to go to the bathroom.”  
   
She nodded faintly, and rose to clear the table.  He went upstairs.  
   
He used the bathroom, all right.  But he also removed all the dangerous pills from the bathroom cabinet, and the straight razor he favoured for shaving over the disposable type.   _If she killed herself with that ... I’d never forgive myself._  
   
By the time he came downstairs, she had started on the dishes, and he gave her a hand.  They chatted while they did it; or rather, he chatted, and she gave him nods, shakes of the head, and monosyllabic replies.  
   
They watched TV for a while after that; or rather, the TV was on, and they sat in front of it. Taylor barely seemed to be taking any of it in, and Danny was trying to figure out what to say to her, to tell her that he loved her, to please, oh goddamn please don’t kll herself.  
   
Eventually, she got up from the sofa.  He got up too, switching the TV off.  
   
“Night, Dad,” she said quietly into the silence.  “Thanks for trying, today.”  
   
He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly.  “And we’ll keep trying,” he assured her.  “Together.”  He put his hand under her chin, tilted her head up so that her eyes met his.  “And Taylor?”  
   
She looked at him, her eyes vast and melancholy.  “Yes, Dad?” Her voice was barely a whisper.  
   
“If you ever need to talk to me about  _anything_ , no matter how bad, no matter when, no matter where, or even if you just need me to hold you, I  _will_  be there for you. I  _will_  make time.  No matter what.  I promise.  Okay?”  
   
The urgency in his voice seemed to get through to her, and she smiled, very slightly.  “Okay, Dad,” she said, in a slightly stronger voice. “Thanks.”  
   
She held him tightly for a moment longer, then padded up the stairs to bed.  
   
***  
   
She lay in bed and stared out at the darkness.  It didn’t matter whether her eyes were open or closed, whether she looked into reality or into her thoughts.  It was all darkness.  
   
 _I don’t see how I can go on,_  she told herself.  _I’ve got nothing more.  They’ve taken it all away from me.  I don’t even have my flute anymore._  
   
She clenched her eyelids shut, but burning tears still leaked out on to the pillow.  
   
 _Dad tries, and he loves me, but ... it’s not enough.  He has to think of other things, and I can’t be in his thoughts every second of the day. I have to be strong, and I can’t. I’m out of strength.  There’s no more._   She felt the void filling her chest.  She didn’t even have the strength to cry any more.   _I’m done.  I’m finished.  They’ve won._  
   
She found herself idly wondering how she was going to kill herself.  At the thought, she said to herself,  _that’s **terrible**_. But she realised that she didn’t mean it.  She only thought it  _should_  be terrible.  
   
And then, a new thought struck her.   _Oh god,_  she thought.   _This is what Dad was talking about._  
  
 _He said, any time I need him to hold me, he would be there to hold me._  
  
 _I need him to hold me, now._  
   
***  
   
Danny Hebert opened his eyes from a light doze.  
   
“Wstfgl?” he asked.  
   
“Dad?” came Taylor’s voice from the darkness.  
   
“Taylor?” he asked, becoming alert in an instant.  “What’s up?”  
   
“Can I get in with you, just for a while?” she asked, her voice near tears.  “I need you to hold me.  Please.”  
   
“Of course,” he agreed, lifting the covers.  “Get in quick, it’s cold out there.”  
   
She slid into bed quickly, shivering slightly.  “It’s really cold out there,” she agreed.  He gathered her into his arms to warm her up.  She snuggled close to him gratefully.  Her skin was chilly to the touch.  
   
He held her close. She held her arms close to her, enjoying the embrace. “What’s the matter, kiddo?” he asked quietly..  “Did you want to talk about something?  
   
After a moment, she shook her head.  She didn’t want to freak him out with talk of casual thoughts of suicide.  “Just wanted you to hold me, Dad,” she said softly. “I just needed to know that  _someone_  in this crappy world loves me.”  
   
He smiled and went to kiss her on the forehead; in the darkness, it landed somewhere next to her left eye.  She giggled anyway.    
   
“Well, I do,” he assured her.  “And I always will.”  
   
She tried to get comfortable, but their knees kept knocking together.  “Roll over,” he advised her.  “Spoon fashion.”  
   
“Yeah,” she agreed, and rolled over.  
   
At this point, it is relevant to note that Danny was wearing just boxers to bed, whereas Taylor was wearing a short T-shirt and loose panties.  Up to this point, neither of them had known nor cared what the other was wearing; they were father and daughter, undergoing a moment of caring and emotional reinforcement.  
   
However, that was where matters began to unravel.  
   
When Taylor rolled over, it twisted her panties around, pulling them just a little bit off her butt. At the same time, her shirt rode up for the same reason, the lower hem coming to rest just below her small breasts. She scooted backwards, thus pulling her panties all the way off her butt, a fact she noticed a little late.  
   
For his part, Danny had woken with a half-hard erection, and having a girl in his arms had not reduced the size of it in any way, daughter or no daughter.  In fact, his bed had been empty for years, and he had never actually brought anyone home to fill it.  
   
So when Taylor’s accidentally naked buttocks slid back and encountered the head of his penis, emerging from the waistband of his boxers, like it normally did, the contact acted like the starting gun to a racehorse.  He suddenly got a lot harder, and more of his erection emerged from the boxers.  
   
Taylor felt something fleshy and warm prod her between her slightly parted buttocks and slide upward; with a grunt of surprise, she reached back and wrapped her hand around it. It was warm, and hard, and throbbed in her hand.  
   
“Holy shit,” she said.  _“Dad?”_  
   
***  
   
Danny expected, when his daughter rolled over, that he would put his arms around her, and hold her, until she went to sleep.  What he did not expect was that when she backed up to him, that her butt would be bare. Worse, that his penis would decide that now was the time to misbehave.  
   
And when Taylor reached back and grabbed him, he was most astonished of all.  
   
“Taylor?” he croaked. “Taylor, you shouldn’t –“  
   
***  
   
Taylor rolled over again, the motion pulling her panties farther down and her shirt up entirely off her breasts, but she didn’t care. She didn’t let go of his now thoroughly erect penis.  
   
“Dad,” she said, and she wasn’t quite sure whether she was experiencing disgust, arousal, or both at the same time.  “Are you  _hard_  for me?”  
   
He tried to push her away, and his hand found her bare breast.  It lingered there for a telling, burning second, before he jerked it away.  “Taylor,” he said. “Please.  Don’t.  This is wrong.”  
   
She shook her head in the darkness.  “Dad,” she said softly.  “I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know where to go.  I have no direction.”  She slid her panties down and off, kicked them away.  Moved closer to him.  Opened her thighs.  Took his unresisting hand and pressed it to her sex, let him feel the heat, the moisture.  
   
Her hand was sliding up and down his shaft, inexpertly but sending thrills of pleasure through him.  
   
“Let me do this,” she whispered, moving closer to him, her hard nipples brushing his chest. “You’re all I have left.  I have nothing more.  Give me something more.  Please.”  
   
 _Christ,_  he thought.  _My daughter is naked in bed with me, seducing me!_   He groaned inwardly, trying to force back the pleasure that she was causing him with her manipulations.  His hand, unbidden, was caressing her soft wet folds of flesh, drawing soft moans of pleasure from her.  
   
“Oh, god,” he groaned.  _What do I **do**?_  
   
***  
   
When Taylor had first felt his erection prodding at her butt, she hadn’t known what it was; of course, when she reached down to grab for it, she realised immediately.  Her first instinct had been to let it go, but then something stopped her.  Her dad was hard for  _her?_   Holy shit!  
   
Such was her craving for some level of acknowledgement that she saw her father’s involuntary reaction to her accidental touch to be some kind of validation of her existence. She was woman, she was female, she could arouse men.  Even her father.  
   
 _On some level, he wants to have sex with me.  Or at least his penis does._  
   
She thought that, somehow, she should be disgusted or repulsed by the idea.   _Incest_.  But to a mind that had recently begun to consider seriously the ramifications and the execution of a good suicide plan, the thought of her father being aroused by touching her butt seemed ... less than a problem.  
   
And, truth be told, she was feeling more than a little arousal at the idea of ... what? Holding his penis?  Which, by the way, was still standing stiff and hard at her touch.  Letting him touch her? His hand was sending nummy waves of pleasure all through her body.  She did not want him to stop.   _I want him to do more to me.  So much more._  
   
She stopped short at the idea.  ‘More’, in this case, meant ... sex.  
   
 _Do I really want to have sex with my father?_  
   
Again, the lack of emotional reaction.  No backlash.  Arousal still flushing her system.  
   
 _Well, fuck it. Nothing else has worked in my life. May as well give this a shot._  
  
 _It’ll be better than pulling some boy into my bed to maul my tits and stick it into me.  At least I know Dad loves me._  
   
***  
   
She moved her hand faster, gripped him harder.  He groaned again.  
   
“Dad,” she said softly.  
   
“Taylor?” he responded, his breath coming in short gasps.  
   
“Dad, I want you to make love to me.  Please.”  
   
Utter silence.  
   
“Dad?”  Even her hand stopped moving up and down his shaft.  
   
“I can’t,” he groaned. “I mustn’t.  It’s wrong.”  Even he heard the tone in his own voice; fighting a rearguard action, a lost cause.  
   
She let go of his erection, shrugged out of the shirt, got up on one elbow.   Pulled him close to her.  Wrapped a leg around his.  His hand left her sex to slide over her body.  His hard penis pressed against her belly.  
   
“Dad,” she said, her voice firm.  “I need this.  I need you to ... “  She stopped, and started again.  “I need to be loved, like a man loves a woman.  And I need you to do it for me.”  She leaned in and kissed him, on the lips, her mouth startlingly warm on his.    
   
“If you can’t make love to your daughter,” she whispered, guiding his hand to her sex once more, and pressing it firmly into place, “then pretend I’m Mom.  And make love to her.  Like it’s the very first time.  Or the last.”  
   
He didn’t move his hand away.  It was a surrender, of sorts.  
   
Unbidden, his other hand found her breast, and caressed it.  Below, his hand gently rubbed her vulva, parting her labia, feeling the moisture within.  Gently, his finger slid inside her.  She arched her back, drawing her breath in sharply.  
   
His fingers knew all the old tricks for exciting a woman; they were new tricks to her, and they worked very effectively indeed.  He kissed her, as he had kissed his wife, and drew her to him.  
   
Under him, she moaned, and arched her back, as he elicited pleasure from her in ways that she had never known existed.  When he poised above her, his penis resting at the slippery-wet entrance to her vagina, she was ready.  
   
Slowly, gently, responsive to her soft cries, her whispers, he slid into her.  Took her for his own.  Changed her life forever.  
   
Long into the night, Danny Hebert made love to his wife, and his daughter.  And sometimes, the line blurred between the two.  He knew, deep down, that things would look far different in the morning.  
   
But right now, he didn’t care.  
   
***  
   
Taylor swam in an ocean of pleasure.  Her father’s gentle, experienced loving had taken her to heights of arousal that she had never imagined, never conceived.  She had tried to give back the same in kind, and had perhaps succeeded. She loved her father; held him as he did these marvellous things to her body, and showed her how to do equally marvellous things to him.  She wanted this night to last forever.  
   
She knew it wouldn’t, but she didn’t care.  
   
***  
   
Together, father and daughter, heads side by side, they slept  the sleep of the exhausted and sated, arms and legs entwined, naked.  
   
And just for this night .... they were content.


	2. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their night of illicit pleasure, Danny wants to talk to Taylor about what happened. The talk does not go the way he expects ...

Danny slowly drifted into wakefulness.  
   
He felt ... different, this morning.  More fulfilled, more complete.  
   
Something had happened last night.  Something ... different. He couldn’t quite remember.  But it had something to do with ...  
   
He was holding someone in his arms, someone naked.  A woman. He was naked too.  His arms were about her body, his hand cupping her breast. He squeezed it gently, eliciting a  _Mmmm_  from his bed partner.  
   
Her butt was pressed up against his crotch.  She wriggled it slightly.  He began to harden with amazing speed, his penis uncurling to slide between her smooth thighs.  He  reached down, sliding his hand over her stomach, between her thighs, rubbed at her.  Felt moisture, arousal.  
   
She parted her thighs slightly, reached down herself.  Tucked the head of his penis into herself.  He moved his hips ever so slightly, slid into her, the hot slippery vaginal canal enclosing him.  
   
“Mmmm, Dad,” she said. “That feels so nice.”  
   
 ** _Dad?_**  
   
He jerked all the way awake, his hips bucking involuntarily, sliding much father into her, the pleasure indescribable.  She turned her head to smile at him lazily.    
   
“Good morning,” she murmured.  
   
And  _then_  he remembered what he’d done last night, and who he’d done it with.  And to.  
   
Despite his arousal, despite the urgent warmth of her, he pulled back, slipping out of her.  
   
“Taylor,” he gulped. “Taylor.  What.  No.”  
   
She pushed the covers back, exposing her nakedness and his.  Rolled over to face him.  
   
“Dad?” she said.  
   
He was beginning to shake. “Taylor.  What we did last night was  _wrong.”_  
   
“Dad,” she said, pleading. “It was only wrong once you knew it was me.  Before then, did it  _feel_  wrong?  Because it didn’t feel wrong to me.”  
   
He shook his head. “No,” he said.  “It’s incest.  It’s wrong.  We shouldn’t have done it.  I shouldnt’t have done it to you.  It was wrong of me.”  
   
“But I wanted it,” she said, tears in her eyes.  “I  _wanted_  to do it.  I wanted to do one beautiful thing, have one beatiful memory, that they couldn’t spoil, couldn’t take away from me.”  
   
“No,” he said.  “It’s wrong.  Even if you started it ...”  he recalled more of what had happened.  She may have started it, but he had certainly participated, willingly and repeatedly, once she had brought down his defenses.  His voice trailed off.  Taylor had rolled over, facing away, and half-curled into a ball.  
   
“Taylor?” he asked.  
   
Her shoulders shook. She was crying.  
   
“Taylor,” he said more gently, reaching out and turning her over to face him.  “Taylor.  Speak to me.  I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly.  I’m sorry.”  
   
She looked at him with a tear-stained face.  
   
“Dad,” she said. “Last night, before we went to bed, you promised that if I wanted to talk to you about anything, anything at all, we could talk.  Is that still a promise?”  
   
“Of course it is,” he replied automatically.  
   
“Then I want to talk to you about this,” she said softly, wiping tears away.  “Not just have you telling me ‘no’ all the time.  I want to say things, and I want you to listen, and I want you to tell me what you really feel, instead of just blocking everything out. Can we do that?”  
   
He  _had_  made that promise.   _And I have to keep it._  
   
“Okay, kiddo,” he said. “We’ll talk.  Over breakfast.  Fully dressed.”  He realised his eyes had not left her body once.  “We don’t need the distraction.”  
   
She nodded.  “That’s fair.”  Reaching under the pillow, she retrieved the t-shirt she normally slept in. It took her a little more scouting under the covers to find her loose panties.  Watchng her moving about on the bed, twisting and turning, her small breasts stretching into interesting shapes, Danny found his arousal returning in almost embarrassing proportions.  Sliding off the bed, she walked from the room, not bothering to dress.  
   
He watched her all the way, then looked down at his rampant erection.  
   
“I guess it’ll be a  _cold_  shower today, then,” he sighed.  
   
***  
   
The cold shower didn’t help as much as he had hoped.  Sitting at the table over breakfast, he eyed her t-shirt and jeans, and could easily recall the slender young body with which he had given – and taken – so much pleasure the night before.  He was already half-hard, just looking at her fully clothed.  
   
“So, Dad,” she said. “Let’s talk.”  There was a brittle quality to her voice, as though she were expecting him to reject her words, treat her like a child.  
   
 _What happens if I do that?_  he asked himself _.  If I just reject what she says, out of hand?_  
  
 _Then whatever good comes from last night ... is gone,_  he realised.   _I will have rejected her.  She won’t even have me to rely on._  
  
 _And what will she do then?_   He really, really didn’t want to know.  
   
“Yes,” he said. “Let’s talk.”  
   
She took a deep breath. “Last night ... I asked you to make love with me.  And you did.  And it was beautiful.” She looked at him directly. “Tell me it wasn’t.”  
   
He shook his head helplessly.  “I can’t, Taylor.  It was ... “  He paused.  “God forgive me, it was like having your mother back.  Just for one night.”  
   
She reached across the table, took his hand.  He squeezed it tightly.  
   
“Dad,” she said steadily. “You didn’t rape me.  I  _asked_  you to do it.  I  _wanted_  it.”  
   
He frowned.  “But ... you’re so  _young.”_  
   
She shook her head, smiling slightly.  “Dad, half my classmates are regularly having sex.  All you have to do is listen to their conversations.”  
   
“I didn’t need to hear that,” he said automatically.  “Far too much information.”  
   
“No, Dad,” she said. “It’s information you need to have. I’m sexually mature.  I can have sex.  It won’t break me.”  She grinned slightly.  “I  _did_  have sex last night ... or rather, I made love.  And it was good.  Really, really good.”  
   
“You’re not ... sore?” he asked.  “Not in pain?”  
   
She shook her head. “A little tender,” she admitted. “But not sore.  There was no pain at all after you broke my hymen.”  She smiled at him.  “So tell me.  What exactly is wrong with what we did last night?”  
   
 _It’s just **wrong**_ **.**   But he knew that was the wrong answer.  He had to use logic.  
   
“The chance of pregnancy, especially with a genetically damaged child?” he said, more asking than telling.  
   
“You had a vasectomy, years ago,” she reminded him.  “I heard you and Mom talking about it once.”  
   
“Okay,” he said. “How about psychological damage? This could really screw you up.”  
   
She chuckled.  “Look at me, then remember what state I was in last night, and tell me about psychological damage.”  
   
 _Dammit, she’s shooting all my points down before they even get in the air._  
   
“It’s against the law,” he said weakly.  
   
“So is going to church without a rifle,” she riposted.  “So is letting me get on top like you did last night.  So we were breaking the law twice over.  Did it feel wrong to you either way?”  
   
He shook his head. It hadn’t.  
   
“Wait,” he said. “Going to church without a rifle is against the law?”  
   
She nodded.  “I read up on silly laws for this state awhile ago for a class project, and those were two I remembered.”  She paused.  “I’m trying to make a point here.  Laws were made for reasons, but sometimes those reasons no longer apply.  Or were stupid to begin with, like the law that women can’t get on top.  And okay, incest is against the law, but I can’t think of a valid reason other than that why what we did last night was wrong.  Can you?”  
   
She looked at him searchingly, trying to get a hint of what he was thinking about _.  I’m not altogether sure that what we did last night was **right** ,_ she told herself,  _but I’m not so sure that it was **wrong,**  either.  It did feel so right.  And I feel ...  **alive** , today.  The world is brighter.  There is more beauty._  
  
 _I don’t regret it. I’d do it again._  
   
 _I just hope Dad doesn’t hate me for it.  I don’t know if I could handle that._  
   
***  
   
He thought about her words. He had promised that they could talk, and so he would hold to his promise.  
   
 _What we did last night,_  he thought,  _has had an effect on her.  She’s brighter, sharper.  She looks happier.  She’s ... proactive. Aggressive, almost.  
_  
He thought about that.  _Last night, she was a shadow of herself.  When she went up to bed, she was on autopilot.  There was no drive to her._  
  
 _Today ... she’s arguing with me on the merits of incest, and winning.  Drive?  She’s got more drive than a trainyard full of locomotives._   And then another thought occurred to him _.  But she’s trying so very hard to convince me of the rightness of what we did, or at least, that it wasn’t wrong._  
  
 _If I reject what she’s saying, it’ll be like rejecting **her** , _that quiet little voice inside reminded him.  
  
 _That could destroy her._  
  
 _Plus, I’m not altogether sure she **is**  wrong._  
   
***  
   
He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said.  “Let’s say that maybe, just maybe, there’s some point to what you are saying.”  He smiled, and held her hand in both of his.  “What we did last night was frowned upon, but after all that’s been done to you, I think you’re allowed a little rule-breaking of your own.”  
   
“Thanks, Dad,,” she began. “I –“  
   
He held up a finger. “Not finished, kiddo,” he said gently. She shut up.  “Now,” he continued.  “I can’t think of a single physical reason that we shouldn’t have done that.  And I can see the result. You’re  _alive_  today, in a way you weren’t yesterday.  For that, alone, I am truly thankful.  And,” he cleared his throat, “yes, it was very, very special to me too.  It allowed me to say goodbye to your mother at last.”  
   
She felt tears in her eyes. “Oh, Dad ...”  
   
He smiled across at her; tears were bright in his eyes as well.  “But we really can’t do this too often,” he said, wiping at them.  “Really, we shouldn’t do it at all.  There doesn’t appear to be any trauma from this time, but if we keep doing it, there may end up being some sort of problem, and I really don’t want to put that on you.”    
   
He took a deep breath. “Besides, you know how easy it is to tell two teenagers who have started sleeping together.  They barely even know they’re putting out signals to everyone who can see it.  If we get into the habit, we’re likely to do that as well.  And if the wrong person gets the right idea, then I could be in really, really deep trouble.  Because you’re fifteen, not of the age of consent, and I took your virginity. That’s a double strike right there.”  
   
She nodded soberly. “I hear what you are saying, Dad. I really do.  So we just chalk this up to something wonderful that we never do again?”  
   
“Basically,” he agreed. “It was something wonderful,” he said with a nod.  “Something we shouldn’t have done.  But if I had it to do over again, and you climbed into my bed, and seduced me as you did ... I’d do it again.”  
   
She smiled and squeezed his hand.  “Thanks, Dad,” she said. “That means a lot to me.”  
   
***  
   
They stood from the table. She helped him clear the dishes. As they washed up together, they chatted.  This time, she held up her end of the conversation, and even told a thoroughly filthy joke that had him laughing so hard that he nearly dropped a dish.  
   
He would have said that he had never felt so much like her father at that point, except that when the dishes were done, she turned to him and gave him a most un-daughterly kiss, causing his nerve endings to tingle and his penis to stir a little in interest.  
   
“Hey now,” he murmured. “I think we agreed, no signals that we’ve slept together.”  
   
She grinned at him. “This is inside the house. Besides, that was me kissing the man who made me feel so good last night.”  
   
He shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.”  
   
She giggled.  
   
“So,” he said, trying to regain his composure, “what did you have planned for today?”  
   
“Actually,” she said. “I was thinking I want to do something good with my body.  I’m going to start running.  Build a little muscle, lose a little fat.  Firm things up again.”  She grinned at him.  “And then I might go shopping.  I need to update my wardrobe.  I’ve been depressed for too long.”  
   
He frowned.  “Not sure I like the idea of you running,” he said dubiously.  
   
She sighed.  “I’ll carry pepper spray, okay?”  She brightened.  “Want to come help me pick clothes out?”  
   
He considered that.  
   
“Yes,” he said.  “Yes, I think I do.  And we’ll get you that pepper spray at the same time.”  
   
Her hug was spontaneous and enthusiastic.  He tried not to think about the hard little breasts pushing into his chest, and hugged her back.  
   
“Come on,” he said.  “Let’s go shopping.”  
 


	3. Shopping Daze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor and Danny go to the mall, where something entirely unexpected happens

Danny parked the truck outside the Weymouth mall, and looked with dismay at the crowds surging in and out of the building.  
   
“Christ,” he said despairingly.  “We had to pick Christmas Eve to do our shopping.”  
   
Taylor grabbed his hand and grinned.  “Come on, Ebenezer Scrooge.  Let’s go brave the crowds, and maybe grab each other a last-minute Christmas present while we’re at it.  Plus, clothes.  I want to look like I feel.”  
   
“And how  _do_  you feel?” he asked curiously.  
   
She grinned at him. “Like a million dollars.  Because something really wonderful happened last night.”  
   
He sighed; her enthusiasm was infectious.  Not resisting all that much, he allowed himself to be towed in among the massed crowds.  
   
Herds of shoppers roamed the concourse, spooking suddenly and diving into those shops which displayed signs like SALE! and 50% OFF FOR XMAS!  Taylor ignored those, heading for the shops that sold the clothes she liked. Then suddenly, she spotted something she wanted.  “Dad –“ she said.  
   
He was looking in another direction.  “Taylor –“ he said.  
   
They looked at each other. “I’ll be right back,” each said, at exactly the same time.  
   
***  
   
Taylor entered the shop; it wasn’t one she normally went to, generally getting her stuff at a lower quality and a much lower price.  But for this instance, she wanted the occasion to be really special, so she went all out.  A very nice, very discreet saleslady assisted her in making the right purchases, picking out exactly what looked best.  
   
As she exited the shop, she folded the distinctive bag and shoved it into her handbag, so that Danny would not know what she’d gotten.  
   
Picking a moment when he was looking the wrong way, she sneaked up to him.  “I’m back,” she said into his ear.  His look of startlement was so cute.  She wanted to drag him into a niche and do interesting things to him.  
   
But no; he’d specified no public displays of affection.  Which, she had to admit, was a really smart idea.  Because given her current feelings about him, could get out of control.  
   
“So what did you get?” he asked.  She noted that he was not showing her what he had gotten.  
   
“Sorry, Dad, it’s a secret till tomorrow.  But I think you’ll like it.”  She grinned and grabbed his hand again.  “Come on. Clothes await.”  
   
And then she saw her. Emma.  Along with Sophia and Madison.  Right in the middle of the concourse.  She recalled the flute, lying forlornly atop the heap of trash. And she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that one of them had taken it, just to screw with her head a little more.  
   
She let go her father’s hand, and marched up to Emma.  Emma was chatting to Sophia, didn’t see her immediately.  Sophia saw her, eyes widening slightly.  
   
“Emma,” she said clearly. “I want it back.  I don’t care how.  I won’t press criminal charges.  But I do want it back.”  
   
Emma stared at her. “Want what back, Hebert?  Your mom?”  There was a titter from the girls around her, and then Danny loomed over her.  
   
“That was cruel and uncalled for, Emma Barnes,” he said from right behind her.  “I believe I will tell your father what you just said.”  
   
She jumped about six inches in the air.  Taylor was still fighting down the anger and pain that the mention of her mother had brought up.  She raised her voice. “Sophia, Madison.  I don’t care who’s got it.  I don’t care what state it’s in.  My mother’s flute.  I want it back.”  
   
“Or what?” sneered Sophia. With an eye toward Danny, who was still glaring at Emma, she added, “Not that I know where your stupid flute is. But just asking.”  
   
Taylor looked her dead in the eye.  “Sophia,” she said.  “You do not want to find that out.”  Her tone was flat, dead level.  She had no idea what she meant, what sort of threat she was making, or how she was going to carry it out, but the flinch that she got from Sophia was worth more than gold bullion.  
   
Reaching out, she grabbed Danny’s hand.  “Come on,” she said.  “We’re done here.”  
   
She towed him away through the crowds; his head was still turned toward Emma; fixing her with a glare.  
   
***  
   
“Uh ... Soph?” said Emma, once Mr Hebert and Taylor were out of sight.   _How the hell can  a man that tall go unseen?_  
   
“No,” said Sophia steadfastly.  
   
“I haven’t even told you what I want.”  
   
Sophia shook her head. “I know what you want.  You want to clear little Miss Taylor’s locker out before the third.  Before school lets back in.”  
   
“Well – yeah,” said Emma. “When she opens it, and there’s all that crap in there, she’ll be able to point to me as someone who did it, and her father will be able to back her up as a witness.”  
   
Sophia sneered.  “One comment?  Not connected to her locker?  Like he’ll be able to make  _that_  stick.”  
   
Emma shook her head. “Soph, I could really get in trouble here.”  
   
Sophia gave her a flat stare.  “Funny, I thought I just heard a whiner speaking, not a survivor.”  
   
Emma shut up.  But she didn’t stop worrying.  
   
Sophia was also thinking.   _Hebert's growing a spine at last?  I want to see how this plays out._  
  
***  
   
“I don’t believe she said that to you,” Danny said.  “I really don’t.  I am going to be calling Alan as soon as we get home.  Emma needs to be spoken to.”  
   
Taylor nodded. “Okay, Dad,” she said.  “She said it in your hearing.  It’s not me causing problems for her.”  She stopped and gave him a hug.  
   
“What’s that for?” he asked, but he hugged her back anyway.  
   
“For being here.  For hearing that.  For giving Emma a bad moment.”  She giggled.  “The look on her face!  I’m going to treasure that moment.”  
   
He didn’t look pleased. “What she said ...”  
   
“Is no worse than what she’s said a hundred times before,” said Taylor wearily.  “It’s just that, this time you heard her.”  She looked up.  “Ah, here we are.”  
   
***  
  
Danny found himself relegate to sitting in a chair, giving critiques on the clothes she took into the changing room and thereafter emerged wearing.  He deliberately approved those clothes with the brightest colours, including some summer-weight outfits which looked particularly fetching on her.  A couple of the t-shirts looked like they would show some belly; he figured that by the time it got warm enough to wear them, she would have firmed up her belly some.  
   
She tried out the last thing, a rathe skimpy bikini, and he found himself getting somewhat aroused; despite this reaction, or perhaps because of it, he approved it.  
   
She came over to him with her purchases, and kissed him on the cheek.  “Thanks for that, Dad,” she said with a giggle.  “I appreciate it.”  Then she leaned in and whispered, “And I saw how you were looking at me with the bikini.  If you want, I can give you a very private showing at home ...”  
   
He felt his throat go dry. “Um ... if you want?” he ventured.  
   
She smiled widely and hugged him.  “You’re the best, Dad!” she said happily.  Grabbing him by the hand once more, she dragged him away again.  “Let’s get something to eat from the food court before we try to get out of here.”  
   
“Good point,” he said,  
   
***  
   
The food court was packed, of course, but she and Danny managed to grab themselves some food and a table.  They dropped their purchases under the table and started eating.  Danny found himself watching Taylor.  
   
She funally noticed this, and coloured slightly  “Why are you looking at me like that, Dad?” she asked, a little self-consciously.  “Have I got something in my teeth or something?”  
   
He shook his head with a smile.  “No, kiddo,” he said fondly. “I’m just enjoying sitting here, eating with my daughter.”  He reached out and put his hand on hers; she froze, looking at him with a surprised expression.    
   
And then she turned her hand over and clasped his fingers with hers.  “No more,” she said softly, “than I’m enjoying being here with my Dad.”  
   
He felt a great surge of love and affection for her, and he squeezed her hand gently.  She squeezed back.  
   
Taylor felt a tap on the shoulder.  She looked around curiously; a teenage girl with dirty blonde hair up in some sort of braid, and a knowing smile, was standing there.  
   
“Excuse please, could we borrow your salt?” asked the girl.  
   
Taylor shrugged. “Sure,” she said.    
   
The girl took it, then leaned close to her ear.  “Probably shouldn’t hold hands like that in public,” she murmured.  “Peoplr might ger the right idea.”  
   
Taylor flinched, pulling her hand from Danny’s grasp.  She realised belatedly that they had been doing just that; sitting there with silly grins plastered across their faces,holding hands in public.  She turned to thank the girl –  _how did she know about us?_  – but she was gone, joining three other teeens on the way out of the food court.  
   
***  
   
“What was that all about, Lisa?”  
   
“Nothing, Brian. Just ... that girl there, and her dad? It’s complicated, but they’re having sex.”  
   
“Kinky.”  
   
“Shut up, Alec.”  
   
“Should we tell the authorities?  I mean, that sort of abuse ...”  
   
Lisa shook her head. “No.  She’s the one who’s initiating it.  Like I said, it’s complicated.”  
   
“Don’t see what’s complicated about it.  If they want to fuck, let ‘em fuck.”  
   
Everyone looked at Rachel. She shrugged.  “What?”  
   
Lisa shook her head with a slight smile.  “Never mind.”  
   
“Anyway,” said Brian. “Not our problem.  And we still haven’t done our shopping.”  
   
“Don’t see why we have to.”  
   
Brian sighed. “Because we’re a team, Rachel. And teams do things together.”  
   
“I hate this.  Hate the crowds.  And they won’t let me bring the dogs inside.”  
   
Brian and Lisa shared a glance for a second.  Bitch in this crowd, with dogs at her disposal?  It would be frankly horrifying.  
   
Alec chuckled.  “Now, that I’d like to see.  You’d clear the place out faster than an Endbringer siren.”  
   
Lisa and Brian spoke at the same time.  “Shut up, Alec.”  
   
***  
   
Taylor was silent all the way out to the truck.  
   
Danny wasn’t quite sure what was going on in her head; the girl had taken the salt, said something to Taylor, and her face had gone white.  
   
They got into the vehicle, and sat there as the heater warmed the air inside.  
   
“What happened in there?” asked Danny.  He didn’t have to specify when.  
   
“That girl ...” said Taylor slowly.  “She knew. She knew what we did last night. That we’re father and daughter, and that we’ve had sex.”  
   
“Made love,” he corrected absently.  
   
“Whatever,” she said impatiently.  “The fact is, she  _knew.”_  
   
“But how?” he asked.  
   
She shrugged helplessly.   
   
“Could she be stalking you?” he asked.  “Looking to blackmail you?”  
   
She shook her head. “Doesn’t have that vibe.  She basically warned me that we were holding hands like a couple of lovesick teens.”  
   
“And you don’t know who she was.”  
   
She shook her head. “Never saw her before.”  
   
He heaved a sigh. “Well, keep an eye out for her. If she starts stalking us, we might have to go to the police.  In the meantime ...”  He didn’t have to finish.  _No more sex._  
   
She sighed.  “But I wanted to ...”  
   
He shook his head. “Too risky.”  
   
“Can I at least kiss you?”  
   
He frowned and relented. “Upstairs, with the blinds drawn only.”  
   
She nodded. “Okay.”  She didn’t like it, but it made sense.  
   
He put the truck into gear, moved off.  
   
He supposed he should feel relieved that they had an excuse to not have sex any more.  But was he?  He couldn’t tell.  
   
Taylor did not say another word all the way home.


	4. Resolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone knows the secret about Danny and Taylor; how will this affect their relationship?

The front door slammed open as Taylor pushed past Danny.  Clutching her bags to her chest, she made for the stairs.  
   
“Taylor ...” said Danny, raising one hand slightly.  
   
She stopped and turned around, her eyes bright with tears.  
   
“What?” she snapped.  “ _What?”_  
  
“I was just going to say,” ventured Danny, “that it’s not that bad.  We can talk about this.”  
   
“Talk about  _what?”_  yelled Taylor.  “I was just starting to get my life in order, just starting to think straight, and this fucking thing happens.  And the one good thing, the one nice thing, in my life is done, it’s  _gone_ , because someone I’ve never seen before says  _one fucking thing_  to me, and it overturns _everything.”_  
  
She took a deep, sobbing breath.  “Fuck it. Fuck her, fuck them, fuck everything. Fuck life.  I’m fucking  _done.”_  
  
Turning, she stomped up the stairs, hitting every tread with enough force to shake the ceiling.  Disappeared around the corner. Slammed the door into her room.  
   
A moment later, he heard her voice, barely muffled by intervening walls, a wail of anguish and anger despair and loss.   ** _“FUUUUUCK!”_**  
  
***  
   
She lay on her bed, knees up to her chest, arms curled tightly about them.  She wasn’t crying anymore; although her pillow was wet with the tears already shed, she was all cried out.  
   
She wanted to scream, rage, throw things.  She wanted to go into the bathroom and find her father’s straight razor. She wanted to hurt someone.  She wanted to hurt herself.  
   
The  _one thing_  she had found that made life worth living again, that made her feel beautiful, a worthwhile person, and it had been taken away from her by a stranger in the middle of a shopping mall.  
   
It was worse, this time around, because she had had something good within her grasp, and it had been taken away.  It wasn’t hers any more.  It never had been.  
   
 _I can’t do that again.  I can't climb that hill again.  I've fallen too far.  It's too much effort.  I used it all up getting here.  And now I'm back to square one._  
  
She closed her eyes tightly. Imagined standing in the shower. The water as hot as it would go. Taking the razor, opening it. Touching it to her wrist under the hot water.  Sliding it down, along the vein. The skin parting, the blood running free.  
   
Repeating with her other wrist, just to be sure.  
   
She imagined the lassitude, the weariness that would come as the blood ran down the drain.  Falling to her knees, slumping on to her side.  Her last sight being blood mixing with water, running down the drain.  
   
 _And then ... nothing._  
  
 _No pain, no fear, no anger.  Nothing._  
  
 _I’ll just ... stop._  
  
 _It’ll be over._  
  
 _Sure, it’ll mean that they win, but who the fuck cares?  I’m not going to win, not against them.  Why **shouldn’t**  I take the easy way out?_  
  
She imagined the shower scene again, and her imagination began to paint ever more lurid pictures.  Slicing her own nipples off, or even her entire breasts.  Cutting her cheeks open, so that the blood ran like tears. Gashing her belly, so that her intestines spilled out on to the floor.  Tearing, slicing, hacking between her own legs, taking away the part of her that had brought her happiness so briefly, and then let her down so cruelly.  
   
 _It would be so easy._  
   
There was a gentle tap on the door.  
   
She didn’t respond.  
   
It came again.  
   
She took a deep breath.  “Go away!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.  
   
“Taylor,” she heard from outside the door.  “Can I come in?  Please?”  
   
She didn’t have the strength for another scream.  Opening her eyes, she was almost surprised  to see that the sheets were not drenched with blood, so deeply had she been immersed in the self-mutilation imagery.  
   
 _Fuck it._   “Come in, Dad,” she said wearily.   _I can’t fight anything anymore._  
  
He opened the door and entered, walking quietly.  
   
She stubbornly faced the wall, refused to roll over, even acknowledge his presence.  
   
"Taylor," he said gently.  
   
She said nothing.   _Go away._  
   
"Taylor," he said again.  "I brought cookies and milk.  Would you like some?"  
   
Such was the surprise at his words that she twisted her head around to stare.  He indeed bore a tray with a pitcher of milk two glasses and a plate of cookies upon it.  
   
There were other things on the tray, but she fixated on the cookies.  They smelled  _delicious_.  Her traitorous stomach growled.  She started at the sound.  "How long," she began, her voice raw, then she started again.  "How long have I been up here?"  
   
"Three hours, more or less," he said.  "I decided to make the cookies and bring them up to you, after the first hour."  
   
The pain, the love, in his face and voice were almost more than she could bear. Carefully, she unwrapped her arms from her knees, wincing at the complaints from joints that had been locked in.the same position for far too long.  He placed the tray on her bedside table and assisted her in sitting upright on the edge of the bed.  Then he sat beside her and placed the tray across his knees.  
   
He poured milk from the pitcher; they both drank.  She almost groaned from pleasure as the cold liquid hit her stomach.  He held a freshly-baked cookie for her to eat; she nibbled at it, snapped playfully at his fingers.  It was wonderful.  
   
When the cookies were done, he put the tray aside.  "Taylor," he said softly, "I'm going to ask you to do something for me, and I'm going to ask you to trust me while you do it."  
   
The serious tone to his voice got her attention.  "What is it, Dad?" she asked.  
   
He took a pad of paper from the tray and handed it to her along with a pen. "I want you to write down all the bad thoughts, all the bad feelings, that you've been having over the last three hours, down on this pad.  Then I want you to tear it off and fold it up and give it to me."  
   
She stared at him, stricken.  "Dad - I -".  _If I do that, he'll know what I want to do._  
   
"Taylor," he said, his voice still soft, his gaze intent. "Trust me.  Please."  
   
So she did it.  She took the pad and pen and sat back up on the bed, against the headboard with the pad on her knees, and wrote.  
   
 _Dad,_ she wrote,  _I'm really sorry that I'm going to be doing this to you, but I see no other way out of this.  I want to die.  If I can't feel happy and beautiful, making love to you, then I want to die ugly and sad._  
  
 _I will be taking your razor and I will be cutting my breasts off, because they feel so good when you suck on my nipples. Then I will slash my face, because I want to look as ugly as I feel.  Then I will slash up my pussy -_  she paused, scratched that out, and wrote  _CUNT - and cut my guts open, so that I don't even look like a woman any more.  Then, if I haven't died yet, I will slash my wrists._  
  
 _I'll be out of your life then, and you won't have to deal with having a perverted slut of a daughter who wants you to shove your cock into her cunt every night just so that she can feel like a human being._  
  
 _Your daughter,_  
  
 _Taylor_  
   
Tears were running down her face as she finished.  She tore off the top few pages, roughly folded them, and handed them to him.  She didn't know how he would react, but if the nausea she felt when writing it was any indication, he would be disgusted and repulsed.  His anger, his judgement, his rejection, would only make it easier to do what she needed to do.  
   
He took the folded pages.  "Thank you, Taylor," he said gravely.  
   
Then he pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the folded paper at one corner. She stared, her jaw dropping open. He held it for a few seconds, turning the paper one way and another, to make sure it had all caught, then dropped it into the metal wastepaper can he had hooked over with one foot.  Leaning over, he watched it burn to ashes with a look of vague interest, while she continued to stare at him.  
   
"What?" he asked mildly, turning to her.  
   
"You - you burned it," she stammered.   _He didn't read it!  He burned it!_  exulted an inner voice.  
   
"Well, yes _,"_  he agreed.  "I didn't want to  _read_  it.  I just wanted you to  _write_  it.  Now it's written, so it's out of your head, and it's burned, so neither of us ever has to worry about reading it."  
   
He stood up, brushing cookie crumbs off of his knees.  Collecting the tray and the pad, he went to walk to the door.  Then he stopped.  "You know, Taylor," he said, "I don't think I got a good look at some of those clothes you tried on, back in the store. Could you do me a favour and model some of them for me again?". Reaching out, he pressed a packet into her hand.  "Start with this one.".   
   
As he reached the door, he glanced back.  "Oh, and you might want to wash your face and brush your hair; you look a fright.". A grin at her outraged look, then the door closed behind him.  
   
Hands moving slowly, as in a dream, she opened the packet.  
   
It was the bikini.  The very  _skimpy_  bikini, that had aroused him so much.  
   
 _He wants me to model it for him._  
  
 _He wants to see me in it._  
  
 _He wants me._  
  
She began to tear her clothes off.  
   
***  
   
Danny looked up as she appeared at the top of the stairs.  He had pulled all the blinds and turned the lights on, so that he could admire her in all her glory as she slowly descended the steps.  
   
It was not through reluctance that she took so long, but a desire to give him a show, let him see what she had.  And every step she took, he appreciated what he saw more and more, as evidenced by the growing bulge in his boxers.  
   
She had taken the time to freshen up with a shower, brush her hair out thoroughly, and put on just a dab of makeup.  Her hair was tied back, the ponytail swaying out of time with her hips as she made her way down the stairs.  
   
She was beautiful, and she knew it.  And it showed in her posture, the proud angle of her jaw, and the secret smile on her face as she watched her father's growing arousal.  
   
The bikini could not be counted as clothing, especially the way she was wearing it. Technically, it covered her.  But in reality, it acted more like punctuation, accentuating the curves she barely had, and glorifying the ones she did have.  
   
She got to the bottom of the stairs and did her best to undulate over to him, her hands up behind her head, elbows out, to enhance her bust.  Stopping in front of him, she turned slowly around, running her hands down inside the bikini bottom to cup and squeeze her buttocks, deliberately leaving the cloth only half-covering the firm, taut flesh as she turned back to face him.  
   
As she did so, she undid the bikini top and let it fall free, held up only by her hands over her breasts.  And then she moved her hands, dropping the top, exposing her firm, small breasts to him.  
   
Leaning over, she put her hands on the back of the sofa and let him lick and suck at her nipples, while his hands caressed her buttocks and rubbed at her moist sex; she gasped and spread her thighs to allow him access.  
   
Looking him directly in the eye, she murmured, "Take them off me, Dad."  
   
He reached up, took hold of the strings binding the bikini bottom closed, and tugged.  The knots came loose, and the flimsy scrap of cloth fell away.  She was naked to his view, naked to his touch.  His hand went to her sex once more, rubbed gently, spread her swollen labia. She was slick to the touch; he slid a finger into her.  It went in easily; she bit her lip, making a noise deep in her throat.  
   
Abruptly she tugged at his boxers.  He assisted her by lifting his ass and scooting it forward on the sofa.  Once the boxers were off, she straddled him, reaching down to ensure his pens was on target.  It was; as he slid into her, she sank down upon his lap with a sigh.  
   
Her lips found his; they kissed hungrily.  At the same time, she began to grind her hips in a circle, rocking them back and forth, driving herself wild with the sensations of his penis moving within her vagina.  
   
It was just as good to Danny; as she rocked and clenched and twisted, he felt his arousal increasing tremendously, her slippery wetness doing amazing things to his throbbing erection.  He felt his climax approaching rapidly, and grabbed her buttocks, squeezing hard as he thrust deeply into her.  
   
Her face was screwed up in an almost painful grimace as she bore down upon him, seeking the climax that seemed just out of reach.  And then she felt his thumb on her clitoris, and she exploded, her back arching, her breasts jutting into his face.  
   
She clenched her teeth as she climaxed, her eyes screwed shut, hissing air in an attempt to not scream out loud.  Her stomach muscles rippled; her vaginal canal clenched around his penis, even as Danny continued to slide in and out of her.  
   
He grunted as he reached his own orgasm, his semen jetting deep into her secret depths. She felt the warmth blooming within her, and came again and again. And with each spasm of ecstasy, she saw the mental pictures she had conjured earlier, burning as her written confession had burned in the wastepaper bin.    
   
The razor reducing her womanhood to shreds.   _Gone_.  Slashing her belly open.   _Gone_.   Cutting her face.   _Gone_.  Slicing her breasts off.   _Gone_.  Opening her wrists up.   _Gone_.  
   
As she shuddered through the last throes of the orgasm, with her father’s cum still warm in her womb, she could not find, could not recall a single one of the gory images of self-destruction, self-loathing.  They were gone.  She was still there.  
   
She slumped over her father, leaning against him as his arms went around her. She kissed him; he returned the favour. Her breath sobbed in her throat; sweat ran down her back.  
   
“Oh god, Dad,” she said, panting.  “That was ....” she didn’t have the words.  
   
“Yeah,” he agreed.  “It was.”  
   
They sat in companionable silence, as his erection slowly diminished and slid from her still-slippery vagina.  
   
“Not that I’m complaining,” she murmured, “but why ...?”  
   
“Why are we making love again?” he asked.  He grinned at her, and planted a kiss on her lips.  “Well, it  _might_  have something to do with that bikini that you were almost wearing when you came down the stairs.”  
   
She nipped playfully at his nose.  “You  _know_  what I mean, Dad,” she giggled.  
   
He heaved a deep sigh.  “I thought about it,” he said.  “And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that what the girl gave us was a friendly warning to not be caught, not that we were under surveillance.”  
   
She hugged him tightly.  “But what if you were wrong?” she asked.  “What if you get in trouble for it anyway?”  
   
He hugged her back.  “I thought about that, too,” he said.  “Then I thought, fuck it.  I’d rather have you back, happy and alive, than worry for the rest of my life over something that might never happen.”  
   
She pulled back and stared at him.  “So … that was your logic?  Just … fuck it?”  
   
He nodded, a grin teasing his face.  ‘Yeah. Fuck it.”  
   
For some reason, that seemed incredibly funny to her.  She started laughing, and soon he joined in.  Naked, straddling his lap, his semen leaking out of her, she laughed and laughed and laughed.  
   
She was still giggling helplessly when he lifted her off him, got up, and picked her up in his arms.  By the time he got to the top of the stairs, she had her arms around his neck, kissing him.  
   
He entered his bedroom, and carefully placed her on the bed.  She scooted to the middle, then watched him climb on beside her.  
   
Slowly, gently, letting him coach her, she brought him to full erection with her mouth, tongue and lips, and hands.  And then she lay back in the posture as old as Eve, and smiled welcomingly at him.  
   
“Please, Dad,” she said very softly.  “Make love to me.”  
   
And he did.  
 


	5. Christmas and beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny and Taylor enjoy an extremely close Christmas break ...

Taylor woke up in her own bed.  She stretched luxuriantly, then rolled over and snuggled in. She was naked, she realised, and there were sticky patches on her body which confirmed that she and her father had gotten up to quite a bit on the previous night.  
   
She smiled as she recalled some of those bits and pieces; Dad might need a little convincing to give with the loving, but once he let his hair down, he did not do it by half measures.  She was still a little tender here and there, but tender in a very nice, very loving way.  
   
She wondered vaguely why he had put her to bed, and then realised that her father was still trying to keep up some level of normality in their relationship, and fathers and daughters did not make a practise of sleeping in the same bed.  It was kind of sweet, in a way.    
   
She heard the shower running, and realised that he was up.  A naughty impulse had her climbing out of bed before she really thought about it; she padded naked to the bathroom and opened the door.  
   
He was running water through his hair when she entered, so he didn’t know she was there until she pulled aside the shower curtain and put her arms around him from behind.  
   
“Good morning, Dad,” she said softly, nuzzling up to his back.  
   
He turned in her arms and put his own arms around her. His penis started rising almost immediately, intruding between them.  
   
“Merry Christmas, kiddo,” he said, and kissed her.  The sentiment may have been banal, but the kiss was anything but.  By the time it was over, she was wet with more than just water, and his penis was stiff and hard between them.  
   
She went to her knees, his erection tracing its way up her body, between her small breasts, to her chin.  Cupping his testicles in one hand, and slowly working the shaft with the other, she began to suck on him, running her tongue over his length, and then letting the first few inches slide into her mouth.  
   
He groaned and leaned against the walls of the shower stall as she brought him to a blinding orgasm, feeling his hips jerk as he shot wad after wad of cum into his daughter’s mouth and over her face and body.  
   
She grinned up at him as the shower washed the white splashes off her skin.  “Merry Christmas, Dad,” she said with a giggle. “Was that a nice present?”  
   
“Taylor,” he said feelingly, “you are a very naughty girl, and I’m going to bend you over and punish you for it, once I get my strength back.”  
   
Taylor snuggled into his embrace.  “Don’t you mean bend me over your knee?”  
   
He shook his head.  “I meant what I said.”  His hand found her sex, and a finger slid into her.  “I’m going to bend you over and punish you.”  She gasped as his finger slid in and out of her slippery vulva, sending waves of pleasure through her.  “Over and over again.”  
   
She moaned and clutched at his back.  “Do it now,” she breathed.  “Here, in the shower.”  
   
He shook his head, and grinned.  “Punishment is all about anticipation.”  Deliberately, he took his finger out of her.  “Now I’m just going to let you suffer for a while.”  
   
“Dad!” she complained.  ‘You’re  _mean!_ _”_  
  
“Never said I wasn’t,” he agreed, stepping out of the shower and grabbing his towel.  “Don’t take too long.  Breakfast will be on the table soon, and then we can open the presents.”  
   
 “Okay, Dad.”  She grinned.   _I_ _’_ _m definitely looking forward to opening the presents._  
  
***  
   
Given that it was Christmas Day, both of them were wearing bathrobes when they sat down to breakfast.  Taylor's hair was brushed out and tied back, and she seemed once more to be wearing makeup.    
  
He was puzzled; he knew for a fact that her scandalously-skimpy bikini was still lying on the floor in front of the sofa where it had been discarded during their love play the previous evening.  And she hadn't bought two bikinis of that type, he was sure.   _What is she up to?_  
   
He shrugged.   _Maybe I'm overthinking things. Maybe she just wants to look good for me._  
  
But he could not be sure.  
   
***  
   
When breakfast was over, they went and sat by the small tree.  Putting the presents under it seemed like a silly little Christmas tradition to have, but it kept them together as a family.  
   
Taylor reached under the tree and pulled out a large rectangular parcel, which she handed to her father.  He read the label -  _To Dad, from Taylor and Mom_ \- and his eyes filled with tears.  He hugged her silently; they never spoke of it, but at least one present every Christmas had her mother's name on it, to keep her alive in their memories.  
   
When he opened the present, he hugged her again; it was the  _Definitive Guide to the History of Brockton Bay and Its Environs_  that he had been looking for, for some months now.  
   
"Thank you, Taylor," he said.  "I really appreciate it."  
   
She grinned at him, leaning into the hug. "I love you, Dad," she said fondly, and somehow it meant more to him than all the times she had gasped it out while they were frantically coupling in his bed.  
   
"I love you too, kiddo," he said, and handed her a package of her own  
   
She opened it, noting that her mother had also had a hand in getting this parcel to her, and discovered that she was the owner of a brand new top-of-the-line electronic tablet.  
   
"Oh wow, Dad," she sad.  "This is so cool.". She turned around and hugged him, giving him a real father-daughter kiss on the cheek, as befitted the occasion.  He held her tightly, just for the moment enjoying having his daughter and not his lover in his arms.  
   
Other presents changed hands; he had gotten her a brightly coloured sundress when she was not looking, and she had found him an authentic-looking pocket watch in a second-hand store.  She was so enchanted with the sundress that she disappeared into the kitchen to put it on, leaving him scratching his head at her newfound modesty.  
   
When she returned, he had two last parcels in hand. "One of these is for me, and one is for you," he said solemnly.  "Let's just say, it's a matching pair."  
   
Curious, she opened hers, to find a mobile phone. Frowning, she looked from it to the identical model that he held.  "Dad, I thought you didn't like these things," she said.  
   
"I don't," he said bluntly.  "But ... I worry about you, running on your own. So I got you that.  It's got my number on speed dial, and all other numbers blocked.  Mine is set up the same way for yours."  
   
She put her hand over his.  "Wow, Dad," she said softly. "That's so sweet.". She smiled and kissed him firmly on the lips, then stood up.  "Want to see my last present for you?"  
   
His mouth suddenly dry, he nodded.  
   
Taking the hem of the sundress in both hands, she drew it over her head.  Underneath it ... he gasped.    
   
"Victoria's Secret," she explained with a grin. "Pricey, but from the look on your face ...  _definitely_  worth it."  
   
He couldn't keep his eyes off of her as she slowly turned for his viewing pleasure.  The bikini, yesterday, had made her look sexy and slutty in a very arousing manner, but this underwear made her look  _stunning._   It enhanced her natural assets in a way that only plastic surgery could better, and he felt a surge of blood to his loins.    
   
She wore a bra and panties made from the sheerest material he could imagine; when she spread her thighs, he could clearly see her distended labia pressing at the flimsy garment.  Her nipples, swollen and excited, were equally visible, and for the first time ever, she actually had a cleavage.  The suspender belt and stockings were just an added fillip; somehow, they made her look insanely sexy and appealing, without any one reason that he could point to.  
   
She looked down at him, and at his erection, which was beginning to show from under his bathrobe.  "Daddy," she said softly, "I'm ready for my punishment now."  
   
***  
   
She clung to the end of the sofa, grunting as he drove his hard penis deep into her soft slippery wetness.  This was the roughest he had been with her, and it struck sparks off of her clitoris and her nipples.  This wasn't making love, she decided, in between the waves of sheer pleasure. This was just fucking.  Little in the way of foreplay or tenderness or gentleness; just hardcore, raunchy bend-me-over-the-sofa sex.  
   
She was still trying to decide whether she preferred it gentle or rough when her orgasm took her by surprise; she cried out as the pleasure sleeted through her.  Her father was not far behind; even as her vaginal canal gripped and squeezed him, she could feel him going into the vinegar strokes.  
   
And then there was a knock on the door.  
   
Even if he had been able to want to stop, there was no way in hell that was happening.    Gripping her hips even more tightly, he drove his penis deep into her over and over again, then exploded, jetting his cum deep inside her. She came again, biting her lip to keep herself quiet; only a whimper escaped her his time.  
   
The knock came again, as he pulled out of her. "Coming," he called raggedly, then grabbed up her sundress and thrust it at her.  Kicking the discarded underwear under the sofa, she wriggled into it.  
   
Pulling his bathrobe shut - and thanking God that he had not discarded it - he approached the door.  "Who is it?" he called out.  Behind him, Taylor pulled the dress down over her hips and dropped on to the sofa.  
   
"I's the Morrisons, Mr Hebert," came the reply.  "From two doors down? We were walking past, heard a noise. Is everything all right?"  
   
"Well, yes," he replied, finally getting his belt tied.  He opened the door. "I gave Taylor a tablet for Christmas.  She's wanted one for months. You know how teenage girls can get."  
   
The Morrisons, an elderly couple in their sixties, peered in through the door, at where Taylor was sitting demurely on the sofa, tablet in hand.  She gave them a broad smile.  "It's wonderful," she said.  "I'm sorry if I startled you; I got a little carried away."  
   
"Oh, that's all right," said Henry Morrison. He turned to his wife, who was more than just a little bit of a busybody.  "See, Florence?  I told you there was nothing to worry about."  
   
Danny realised that a large bead of sweat was rolling down his temple; he hoped devoutly that they would not notice.  
   
Florence Morrison stared at Danny suspiciously and opened her mouth to say something.  
   
"Would you like to come in for some tea?" asked Taylor brightly.  
   
"No, no, that's just fine," said Henry. "Come along now, Florence. We've imposed on them enough already.". He started back down the steps; after a moment, she followed.  
   
"Come over any time!" called Danny. "And thanks for watching out for us!"  
   
Not waiting for an answer, he closed the door carefully and leaned on it.  
   
Taylor got up from the sofa, came over to where he stood, and embraced him; he hugged her back.  They were both shaking, he realised.  
   
"That was  _far_  too close," he said feelingly.  She didn't answer, but her head moved in a nodding motion against his chest.  
   
"I think ..." she said after a while, "... that it might be an idea to ease back on the sex.  Just a bit.  Just in case."  
   
He nodded, and kissed the top of her head. He smiled.  "You were wonderful," he said.  "Inviting them in like that.  How did you know it would work?"  
   
She snuggled into his embrace. "Reverse psychology.  I could see Mr Morrison was uncomfortable and wanted to go.  So I gave him a choice, and he took the one he wanted.  And Mrs Morrison would have decided we had something to hide if we just asked her to go away, so ..."  
   
He nodded.  "So you defused it by asking her to stay.  Nicely done."  
   
She grinned up at him, then kissed him on the lips.  "Well, I'm going to go shower and change, then go for a run with my nice new phone.  Getting out and about will give the Morrisons of the world less to gossip about."  
   
He nodded seriously.  "And we'd better watch the kissing and fondling thing in public as well.  We only need to slip up once."  
   
"Yeah," she agreed.  She kissed him again and headed for the stairs.  He noticed the large wet patch on her buttocks, where the semen leaking from her vagina had soaked through the thin cloth.  
   
 _That might have been a little hard to explain away,_  he told himself.  
   
 _We got away with it. This time._  
   
As Taylor showered, he cleaned up the living room; all underwear, all wrapping paper, everything that didn't belong.  
   
 _We're just going to have to be good for a while._  
   
***  
   
They continued to make love off and on over the rest of the Christmas break.  But they were very circumspect about it; they only ever did it upstairs, in his bed (or once, spectacularly, in the shower) and only after dark, with the blinds drawn.  Taylor stopped walking around in a state of undress, and they actually managed to reconstruct a life as father and daughter.  She even slept in her bed every night, even after making love with him in his.  
   
Of course, some things were different, and they had to be careful not to go with their impulses. Once, at the shop, he stopped himself mere seconds before he would have caressed her butt in front of everyone there. And she had to stop herself from giving him full-lip kisses when in public; a mere peck on the cheek was all she could do.  
   
***  
   
But on the evening of the second, with school beginning again on the third, he could tell that she was becoming more and more tense and unhappy.  He tried to talk to her about it; her replies were monosyllabic and uncommunicative.  
   
He was just preparing for bed when she appeared in the doorway.  She was naked except for the bikini pants.  “Dad,” she said softly, “could you come to my room, please?  I have a problem.”  
   
She walked away without another word; he followed her to her room.  
   
When they reached her room, she faced him directly.  “I don’t want to sleep alone, Dad,” she said.  “Not tonight.  I want you to hold me and make love to me, as gently or roughly as you want.  I want to feel you  inside me, feel your arms around me.”  
   
He put his arms around her. “Taylor,” he said gently, “you know we have a rule that you can’t sleep in my bed.”  
   
She embraced him in return. “I know,” she said softly. “That’s why I want you to sleep in mine.”  
   
He paused.  “That’s a bit ... dodgy.”  He frowned.  “Evading the spirit of the rule.”  
   
“Dad.”  Her voice was near tears, the side of her face pressed against his chest.  “You’re all that’s letting me even face the idea of going back to school tomorrow without screaming.   _Please_.  Be with me tonight.”    
   
She looked up at him; the tears were bright in her eyes.  “Tonight I’m not your daughter.  I’m not Mom, either.  I’m just someone who desperately needs to be held, and to be made love to, or fucked, whichever you want to do.  Just do it to me, until we can’t do it any more.”  
   
The pain in her voice wounded him to the core.  “Of course, Taylor,” he said, holding her close.  “Of course I’ll sleep in your bed and hold you.”  
   
She smiled wanly, and plucked at the strings on her bikini bottom.  They came loose; she was naked before him.   His boxers joined them on the floor.  
   
Together, they climbed into her bed.  
   
***  
   
He made love to her four times that evening, surprising even himself.  She invited him to try any techniques or positions they had not attempted before; they reprised doggy-style, and while he was there, she suggested that they attempt anal.  It did not go well, even with lube, so they gave it up as a bad idea, and went back to ordinary (or not so ordinary) vaginal sex.  
   
She fell asleep before he did, and he wondered if he should sneak back to his own bed anyway.  But when he attempted to ease out from under her arm, she whimpered and tightened her grip.  So there he was, for the night.  
   
He woke up once, on his back; she was astride him, fully impaled, riding him hard.  He gasped her name; she did not answer.  He did not try again, as his fifth climax of the night seized him and nearly took the top of his head off.  She seemed to come to orgasm as well, for she slumped down over him, eyes closed, and snuggled up to him once more.  He put his arms around her and held her tightly.  As far as he could tell, she’d been asleep the whole time.  
   
***  
   
Taylor woke up; it was dark, and she was on her back with her legs open.  Her father was on top of her, his penis sliding in and out of her wet slippery vagina.  The sensations were indescribable.  She moaned his name; he did not respond.  He slid his penis into her, over and over again, until she came repeatedly.  His penis erupted, deep inside her, and she grunted as he thrust hard into her, his orgasm spraying semen into her womb.  As he rolled to the side, his penis slipping from her, he began to snore.    
   
 _Was he asleep that whole time?_  she asked herself, mind still buzzing from the orgasm.   _Wow, I’m going to have to do that more often._  
   
***  
   
The next time she woke up, it was daylight, and he was just rolling out of bed.  She didn’t feel like moving; she had enjoyed the previous night so very much, and she wanted to enjoy that feeling some more.  
   
“Dad? she said, as he reached the door, not bothering to retrieve his boxers.  
   
“Yes, Taylor?” he asked, turning to face her.  
   
“Thanks,” she said softly. “For everything.  It helped.  Really.”  
   
He smiled.  “That’s good, kiddo.  I’m going to go shower, then put breakfast on.”  
   
She grinned back, and stretched.  “I think I might skip my run today.  I had enough exercise last night.”  
   
He chuckled.  “You and me both, kiddo.  You and me both.”  
   
***  
   
He looked around as the bathroom door opened and closed.  Taylor stood there, watching him dry himself.  She was totally naked.  
   
“You want the shower?” he asked.  
   
“No,” she said, stepping forward.  “I want  _you.”_  
   
She went to her knees and began to perform fellatio on him; he came to full erection very quickly.  
   
“You know this is against the rules,” he said, even as he lifted her on to the wash basin bench.  
   
“Fuck the rules,” she said crudely.  “I just want to do this one more time before I go to school.”  She opened her legs wide, allowing him to slide into her.  He held her buttocks, as she dug her nails into his back and kissed him passionately.    
   
He was actually rather surprised at his ability to do it one more time, after the night of passion they had just shared.  But he thrust in between her swollen labia, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, and together they came to a tumultuous climax that nearly brought the bathroom down around their ears.  
   
Weak and shaking, she clung to him.  “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered. “I needed that.”  
   
His knees were equally shaky. “I think I did too,” he replied with a weak grin.  “Now it’s time you had your shower, young lady.”  
   
She looked down and grinned. “Well, unless you want to get in there with me, you’re going to have to take it out before I can.”  
   
He also looked down, chuckled self-consciously, and let his deflating penis slide out of her.  
   
“Get in the shower, kiddo,” he said, slapping her on the butt as she slid off the bench.  
   
“Yes, Dad,” she grinned.  
   
***  
   
She was still feeling relaxed and happy while she was getting ready for school.  He noticed this, and commented on it.  
   
She grinned at him.  “Do what you did to me last night and this morning, Dad, and I’ll be relaxed and happy all  _week.”_  
   
They shared a fatherly/daughterly hug and kiss before he went off to work, and she went off to catch the bus for school.  She had her phone in her back pocket; not that she thought she’d need it, but it was something he got for her because he cared, and so she carried it.  
   
As she watched the scenery pass her by on the way to Winslow, she thought about the fears and apprehensions that were bothering her.  
   
 _I wouldn’t worry about it_ , she told herself.   _Nothing’s probably going to happen anyway._


	6. The Locker Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened at the time of the locker incident, from several perspectives

**3:17 PM**  
   
Director Emily Piggot of the Parahuman Response Teams steepled her fingers and observed the armoured man sitting on the other side of the desk.  
   
"I understand there was an incident at Winslow High School this morning," she said to him.  "I’ll have your verbal report now."  
   
Armsmaster cleared his throat.  "We received a report at eight forty-five this morning, regarding criminal cape activity at Winslow."  
   
"Shadow Stalker's school," Piggot put in, to show she was following matters.  
   
Armsmaster nodded.  "We attended the location.  The first suspicious thing we found was a vehicle crashed into one of the school gates.  The driver was nowhere around, but there was evidence suggesting that he had suffered a head injury in the accident.  Running the plates gave us the name Daniel Hebert."  
   
***  
   
 **8:35 AM**  
   
Danny Hebert tapped at the keys of his computer, and frowned.  More paperwork screwups, all done before the Christmas break, all coming to his attention now.  He sighed.  _If they'd just paid attention to what they were doing, rather than watching the clock ..._  
   
But done was done.  The screwups had happened, and fixing them was his job.  
   
A beeping from his pocket made him frown again.   _Taylor?_  He didn't like.mobile phones; one had featured rather too closely in his wife's death.  But since Taylor was going to be running in the mornings, he had gotten her one, so she could call him if she needed help.  Reluctantly he had gotten himself one, a throwaway with prepaid credit, blocked to all numbers but Taylor's.  
   
He fished the phone from his pocket, accidentally dropped it, bent down to pick it up, and finally opened it.  Pressing the green button, he held the device to his ear. "Taylor?" he said. "Shouldn't you be in class?"  
   
" _Daaaad_!" she screamed, so loudly that he had to hold the phone away from his ear.   _"Dad!  Help me, oh god, help me, please!"_  
   
She was sobbing and retching, and in the background, he could hear a metallic banging.  
   
He was on his feet in an instant, phone pressed tightly to his ear.  She sounded hysterical, panicked, terrified.  "Taylor!  I'm coming! Where are you?"  
   
" _Locker_!" she sobbed.   _"Oh god Dad, get me out get me out get me OUTTTTTTTT!"_  
   
More crashing and banging, and suddenly there was a loud thump as if the phone had been dropped.  Distantly he heard her panicked babbling, more retching, and much louder banging.  
   
 _Taylor.  Oh my god, Taylor._  
  
"I'm coming!" he shouted into the phone as loudly as he could, in the hope that she would hear him.  "I'm coming!  Just hold on!"  
   
Leaving the phone open, he dropped it into his pocket, and dashed from his office.  The people in the outer office, startled by the shouting, stared at him as he ran through.  
   
"Mr Hebert ...?" ventured one of them.   
   
"No time!" he shouted.  "Family emergency!". Crashing out through the outer door, he sprinted for his truck, feeling for his keys at the same time.  
   
The old engine caught first time, and he crashed it into gear.  Still putting on his seat belt, he made the old truck roar as he accelerated for the road.  
   
 _Taylor. ....  Oh god, what have they done to you?_  
   
***  
   
 **3:19 PM**  
   
"We entered the school, and found everything in an uproar," continued Armsmaster imperturbably.  " A school locker had been vandalised, the door pried open.  The smell was quite bad; biological waste had been packed into it and was now strewn across the floor. The cleaning staff were attempting to deal with the mess, but hadn't done very much with it.  Subsequent examination of records revealed that the locker had been assigned to one Taylor Hebert.  Daniel Hebert's daughter," he added unnecessarily.  
   
He paused.  "In among the biological waste," he added, not going into details as to what the waste consisted of, "we found one interesting item.". He indicated one of the two bagged objects on the desk   They both looked at it; it was a flute, which had been quite badly damaged, and had some vile-looking material smeared all over it.  
   
"Now, what do you suppose  _that_  signifies?" pondered the Director.  
   
"Ma'am, I have no idea," confessed Armsmaster. "I think we're going to have to ask Taylor Hebert."  
   
***  
  
 **8:24 AM**  
   
The bell was due to ring any minute now, and Taylor would have to go into class.  First day back from Christmas Break.  
   
She’d been loitering in the bathroom; despite her brave face at standing up to Emma and the others in the Weymouth mall, she really didn’t want to confront them again this soon.  But she had to get her stuff out of her locker, and so ...  
   
Approaching her locker, she saw several other students hanging around.  She hoped that it was just her imagination that made it seem that they were watching her.  _Just get my books and go._  
   
There was a smell.  A really bad smell.  And it seemed to be hanging around her locker.  
   
She started getting a really bad feeling about this.  But she had to see.  
   
 _What have they **done**?_  
   
She couldn't just back away, couldn't walk into class without her books.  Besides, this was the new, confident, strong Taylor.   _A bad smell can’t stop **me**._  
   
She spun the combination lock, opened the locker.  
   
The stench rolled out at her, enveloped her, suffocated her.  
   
The locker was half full of …  _oh my god, tampons and pads._    All blackened with semi-dried, rotted blood. Insects crawled in among them.  
   
The smell was  _indescribable_.  She couldn't breathe.  She couldn't think.  Everything in her locker was ruined.  Involuntarily, she bent over to retch, to throw up.  
   
And then she felt a shove, propelling her into the locker, into the filth.  She felt it wrap around her legs, oozing, insect crawling, as she slammed into the back wall of the locker.  
   
The door slammed behind her, cutting off the light. She heard excited voices outside, then the whirr of the combination lock being spun.  She turned around in the tight confines, still retching, shoved at the door.  It was locked.  
   
She was shut in with the filth.  
   
She drew a deep breath, vomited all over herself, warm puke all down her front.  Drew another breath.  “Let me out!” she tried to scream. It came out as a strangled gargle. She cleared her throat, clawed vomitus from her mouth with her fingers, screamed again.  “LET ME OUT!”  
   
Dim laughter from outside.  
   
She banged at the locker door, her thoughts spiralling toward panic.  The smell, the insects, the darkness.  
   
“Oh god oh god let me out please please please!” she screamed, the begging tone evident in her voice.  
   
She threw up again.  It did not appreciably change the smell in the locker.  
   
Oozing, sticky biological waste surged around her thighs.  Insects, disturbed by the movement, crawled out of the pile and up her body, up the sides of the locker, into her hair, running across her face.  
   
She screamed, pounded on the door, threw herself at the sides of the locker, clawed at her own face and eyes.  
   
More cruel laughter from outside.  
   
The bell rang.  
   
 _Maybe they’ll let me out now._  
   
But they didn’t.  
   
They left her there.  
   
Screaming, retching, struggling, banging on the door, throwing herself around inside the locker, she tried to get out. Failed.  Her mind started spiralling in tighter and tighter turns, toward madness.  
   
She recalled the phone Dad had given her. It was in her back pocket.  She clawed for it.  Found it.  Nearly dropped it.  Slumped against the side of the locker, clawed it open, pressed dial.  Only one number.  
   
It rang.  She sobbed, retched again.  
   
And rang.   _Dad, Dad, answer me, Dad._  
   
His voice.  Normal, vaguely annoyed.  The most wonderful, wonderful sound in the world.  
   
 _"Taylor? Shouldn't you be in class?"_  
   
"Daaaad!" she screamed, so loudly that her voice reverberated inside the locker.  "Dad! Help me, oh god, help me, please!"  
   
She sobbed and retched, and kicked at the locker door.  
   
 _"Taylor!  I'm coming!  Where are you?"_  
   
"Locker!" she sobbed.  "Oh god Dad, get me out get me out get me OUTTTTTTTT!" An insect ran over her eyeball; she screamed and flinched her whole body; the phone dropped out of her vomit-slick hand, into the ... stuff.  
   
She didn’t want to delve her hand into that stuff.  The very thought made her retch again.  She could vaguely hear his voice, tinny, distant.  Couldn’t hear what he was saying.  Reached for the phone.  Accidentally pushed it farther down into the mess.  Lost touch with it.  
   
“Dad!” she screamed, banging at the locker door. “Help me!  Oh god, get me out of here!”  She plunged her hands into the stinking mess, searching for the phone.  It was her only lifeline, her only hope.   _I have to find it._  
   
***  
   
 **8:37 AM**  
  
Danny weaved through traffic, foot flat to the floorboards, intent on only one thing.   _I have to get to Taylor_. The heel of his hand blared the horn, startling other drivers out of the way.  The engine of the old truck, unused to such demands, still responded gamely, even as the temperature needle crept into the red.  
   
***  
   
 **3:20 PM**  
  
"It was at this point," continued Armsmaster, "that we received a police report about an incident involving a vehicle matching the description of the one belonging to Daniel Hebert."  
   
***  
   
 **8:38:23 AM**  
   
Taylor scrabbled frantically through the horrid detritus, sobbing and retching.   _I have to find it._  
   
***  
   
Danny downshifted, powered through a gap.  Saw lights up ahead.   _Stay green,_  he prayed.   _I have to get to Taylor._  
   
***  
   
The world went away.  
   
Taylor and Danny hung in the void, side by side.  
   
Around them, the vastness of empty space.  In the far, far distance, stars and what may have been planets.  Nearer, great bloated forms undulated through the cosmos.  Something like worms, something like whales, quite unlike either.  They brushed together, shedding bright spicules of matter, fragments, shards.  
   
One of these ranged toward where Danny and Taylor hung, barely aware of each other, unable to speak, unable to even comprehend fully what was happening.  It cracked, split, came apart.  One fragment daggered into Danny, the other into Taylor.  
   
***  
   
The world came back.  
   
Taylor was still trapped in the locker, still assaulted by that horrifying stench, still had bugs crawling over her.  She was panicked, terrified, nauseated, overwhelmed.  But in the small part of her brain that still had the capacity for rational thought, she  _knew_ where her phone was.  
   
Plunging her hand into the muck, she closed her fingers over it, clung to it like a lifeline.  
   
 _Dad's coming._  
   
***  
   
Danny was still in the cab of his truck, horn blaring, engine thundering.  Ahead, the lights turned red.  The intersection rushed toward him.  He wasn't even really aware of making the decision not to slow down, not to stop.  _I have to save my little girl._  
   
He rocketed into the intersection.  
   
At the same time, a semi-truck, which had been downshifting for the red, changed up and accelerated.  Danny was right in his path.  There was not a thing either one of them could do.  
   
He saw it coming from the corner of his eye, knew he was dead.  
   
His last thought was one of simple regret.  
   
 _I’ll never see Taylor grow up now._  
   
***  
   
The driver of the semi-truck slammed on his brakes.  He knew it wouldn't do a damn bit of good, but he tried anyway.  
   
In the instant before he would have ploughed into the driver's side of the pickup truck, it disappeared in a cloud of brownish-purple smoke.  Which his truck blasted right through.  No tearing crunch.  No impact at all.  There was just the dissipating cloud of smoke.  
   
The truck driver pulled over, put his face in his hands, and shook.  After a while, he pulled out his phone and dialled the police.   _They should know about this_ , he figured.  Besides, he wan't up to driving a Dodgem car, right at that moment.   
   
***  
   
Danny became aware of ticking and creaking. He could also hear Taylor's voice, tinny and far away, calling for him.  He was slumped over the steering wheel of his truck, the engine stopped or stalled.  There was a massive star in the windshield directly in front of him, with a little blood smeared around it. His left knee ached abominably. He couldn't see out of his right eye at all, and his left was fuzzy.  He had no idea where his glasses were.  
   
 _I have to get to Taylor.  I have to save her._  
  
He wrenched the truck door open, half-fell out, climbed painfully to his feet.  
   
The truck was crunched up against one of the concrete posts that held up the gates outside Winslow High. He didn't question how he came to be there; he just started staggering toward the school.  
   
He must have blacked out for a moment, because he found himself in the school hallway, next to a row of lockers.  And Taylor's voice, hysterical and terrified, was coming from one of them, along with loud banging.  
   
"Taylor!" he shouted, stumbling over to the locker.  His head ached abominably; he ignored it.  His fingers scrabbled at the door.  "Taylor!  I'm here! I'll get you out!"  
   
Inside the locker, she heard him.  "Dad?   _Dad? **DAAAAAAD!**_ "  
   
The sheer need and anguish in her voice tore his heart in two, right down the middle.  He twirled the combination lock uselessly; he couldn't even see the numbers.   _I have to get her out._  
   
 _Pry bar.  I have a pry bar, in the truck._   He knew exactly where it was, could visualise it, behind the seat.  "I'll get a pry bar from the truck!" he shouted.  "I'll be right back!"  
   
 _He's going away.  No. He can't leave me here._  
   
"Dad!  No!  Please don't go!" she screamed hysterically.  
   
Danny stared at what he held in his right hand.   _Must've blacked out again,_  he thought dully. For he was holding the pry bar, but for the life of him, he could not recall going to the truck and getting it out.  
   
He vaguely supposed that he should be concerned.  Blackouts were not a good thing.  But right now he had other things to worry about.  Such as getting this door open.  
   
Setting the pry bar in the door crack, he heaved.  It gave, a little.  He set it deeper, heaved again. Abruptly, the lock gave, and the door sprang open.  Taylor fell out, into his arms.  He clasped her tightly; she clung to him desperately.  She stank abominably, was covered in vomit, and had small horrible blackened things clinging to her legs and arms; his face and chest were half covered in gore from a badly bleeding scalp wound.  Neither of them cared; they were together.  
   
***  
   
 **3:22 PM**  
   
"The principal's statement indicated that Daniel and Taylor appeared in her office in a cloud of smoke at approximately eight forty-one AM," continued Armsmaster. "He shouted at her, swung a weapon at her, made a threat, and then disappeared again."  
   
They both looked at the other item on the desk.  A metal pry-bar, old and scuffed.  It was also contained in a plastic bag.  
   
***  
   
 **8:41 AM**  
   
 _I'm taking this to the principal.  Give her a piece of my mind._  
  
Danny could not recall staggering to the principal's office, half-carrying Taylor.  But he must have, because there she was, right in front of him.  She started up out f her chair.  
   
"Mr Hebert!" she snapped.  "What is the meaning of this?"  
   
A couple of the horrid items from the locker peeled from Taylor's leg, fell to the carpet.  All of the calm, reasoned words Danny had been going to use just went out of his head.  
   
"You fucking did this!" he shouted.  "You let this happen!"  
   
He brought the pry bar up and over, down on to the desk; the sharp tip smashed through a desk calculator and embedded itself in the wood beneath.  When he let the metal bar go, it quivered slightly, and stayed where it was.  
   
"Dad ...". Taylor's voice was barely a whimper.  She bent forward and threw up bile on the carpet.  
   
"Don't worry, kiddo, I'll get you to the hospital," he promised _._   He pointed one shaking finger at the principal.  "I'll be fucking  _back_ ," he promised.  
   
Scooping his daughter into his arms, he turned to leave ... and found himself stumbling in through the emergency room doors.  The nurse on duty looked up from her crossword puzzle, her eyes widening in shock. Danny was at the end of his strength; he crumpled to the floor, in his last extremity twisting so that he took the impact and not Taylor.  
   
He never heard the shouts of alarm, the running feet.  Never felt himself being lifted on to a stretcher.  
   
***  
   
 **3:24 PM**  
   
"We checked the hospitals, of course," Armsmaster stated.  "They were checked in under their own names.  Daniel Hebert, suffering from trauma consistent with a car crash, Taylor with numerous minot cuts and bruises, plus infectious materials all over her.  It's fairly obvious that she was locked into that locker by person or persons unknown, along with the biohazard waste.  She contacted him to get her out, and he triggered in his anxiety to reach her."  
   
Director Piggot considered this.  "You will have turned over all your gathered evidence to the police, of course.  This sort of thing is deeply disturbing."  
   
He nodded. "Already done, ma'am."  
   
"And the Heberts? Have you spoken to them yet?"  
   
He shook his head. "We have guards on them, but he's still unconscious from his injuries, and she's been sedated until they could assess her condition.". He grimaced.  "They had to burn her clothes.". He paused.  "I have contacted New Wave and asked them if Panacea can help.  She should be getting to the hospital fairly soon, and meeting Miss Militia there. If Hebert can teleport reliably across the city, carrying someone, even while injured, we could definitely use him in the Protectorate."  
   
The Director nodded. "Keep me informed."  
   
He rose and saluted.  “Will do, ma’am.”


	7. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panacea finds out about the secret, but has a secret of her own ...

Panacea met Miss Militia in the hospital corridor.  
   
“Where  _is_  everyone?” she asked, keeping her voice low by habit.  
   
“We’ve had the ward cleared,” Miss Militia replied.  “Daniel Hebert is a newly triggered cape, with a head injury.  His daughter was the reason he triggered.”  Swiftly, she filled Panacea in on the facts as she knew them. “They’ve got him stable, but we’d really like  you to have a look at him.”  
   
“I don’t do brains,” said Panacea reflexively.  
   
Miss Militia shook her head.  “I’m not asking you to.  But this guy teleported a truck halfway across the city.  And teleported himself and his daughter from her school to here,  _after_  he got the head injury.  He could be a huge asset to the Protectorate.”  
   
Panacea nodded briefly.  “I’ll see what I can do.”  She walked into the room, pushed aside the curtain.  
   
Daniel Hebert was a tall, skinny man.  He had a splint on his left leg, and bloodstained bandages on his head. Panacea looked at him for a long moment _.  He got injured trying to get to his daughter and save her._  
  
 _He must love her very much._  
  
 _She’s so lucky._  
   
She laid her hands on his, and went to work.  
   
***  
   
Danny’s eyes fluttered open.   _Where …?_   He made an incoherent noise in his throat.   _Taylor. Where’s Taylor?_  
   
“Shh … shhh,” said a voice soothingly.  “It’s all right.”  The voice was young, and feminine.  Not Taylor, though.  
   
He knew where Taylor was, however.  She was about four yards  _that_  way.  He rolled his head over to look in that direction.  There was a curtain there.  Taylor was asleep or unconscious.  He had no idea how he knew that.  
   
“Mr Hebert,” came the soft voice once more.  “Can you hear me?”  He turned to look.  A hooded girl, white robes, a cross on the front.   _Panacea, from New Wave._  
   
“Nggg hrrrr yng,” he mumbled.    
   
Her hand lifted his head gently, and a cup of water was held to his lips.  He drank clumsily, but most of it went down his throat, rehydrated his parched mouth.  
   
“I can hear you,” he said, once he finished drinking.  “Thanks.  Is Taylor all right?”  
   
He thought she smiled.  “She’ll be fine.  I had to deal with you first. Do you know what happened to you?”  
   
He blinked; his hands came up reflexively to his face.  “How can I see you so well?  Where are my glasses?”  
   
“I gave you a little impromptu eye surgery,” she explained.  “I hope you don’t mind.”  
   
He shook his head.  “I guess not.  What happened?”  
   
“I was hoping you could tell me,” she said gently.  “See what your memories are like.”  
   
Widower, his file said.  One daughter.   _Taylor._  
   
Her powers told her more; he was in reasonable health for his age, non-smoker, non-drinker.  Not overly fit, but not inclined to put on weight.  Heightened level of endorphins –  _he’s been getting a lot of sex recently_ , she concluded, with just a little bit of a blush.   _Lucky him_.  Vasectomy, an old surgery.   _Still has all his teeth, had his appendix out years ago_.    
   
No apparent brain damage that she could see.  Which was a good thing.   _I don’t do brains.  Not even for the new up-and-coming wunderkind teleporter that they say he is._  
   
“I … was at work,” he said hesitantly.  “Taylor called.  Said she was trapped in a locker.  I started driving over there. Ran a red light.”  He stopped, looking at her.  
   
“Go on,” she said with a smile.  “I’m not here to bust you for that.”  
   
He nodded. “Next thing I knew, the truck’s piled up in front of the school gates.  I went to go in, blacked out, found myself outside her locker.  I wanted to open it, so I got my pry-bar and opened it.  Got Taylor out, went to the principal’s office, gave her a piece of her mind, got Taylor to the hospital.” He frowned.  “Not sure how.  The truck was pretty beat up.”  
   
She nodded.  “Mr Hebert, there’s more to it than that.”  She looked around, gestured to Miss Militia, who was chatting to Glory Girl.   _I **told**  Vicky she’d get bored, but she insisted on coming._  
   
“What?” he asked.  He began to struggle to sit up.  _Is it about Taylor?  Oh my god, Taylor!_  
   
“Please relax, Mr Hebert,” she urged him.  “You had a fractured skull, a subdural haematoma and a shattered left kneecap, along with various minor contusions.  You’ve also lost blood.  You are going to feel weak for a little while.  Please don’t strain yourself.”  
   
Miss Miltitia came straight over.  Danny grabbed Panacea’s arm.  “Is Taylor all right?” he asked urgently.  
   
“She’ll be fine,” she told him again.  “I’m just going to look in on her now.”  She glanced at Miss Miltitia.  “His memories and mental acuity check out just fine,” she assured the older hero.  
   
Miss Militia nodded.  “Thank you, Panacea,” she said.  She sat down alongside the bed.  “Mr Hebert – Daniel,” she said.  “Is it okay if I call you Daniel?”  
   
“Danny,” he said reflexively.  “No-one ever calls me Daniel.”  
   
“Danny,” she repeated.  “Well, then, do you know why I’m here to talk to you, Danny?”  
   
He frowned.  “Um … no.  Did a supervillain shut Taylor in the locker?”  
   
She chuckled.  “No.  It’s more simple than that.  Do you know how you got from the school to the hospital?”  
   
His frown deepened.  “Uhhh … not really?”  
   
He could see the smile stretching the scarf around her mouth.  “You have powers, Danny.  You’re a teleporter.”  
   
But he wasn’t paying attention any more.  
   
***  
   
Taylor felt herself gradually emerging from sleep.  She didn’t want to wake up.  She wanted to stay down there in the nice safe soft warm darkness, where the horror of the locker wasn’t.  She was scared that she’d just gone away from herself for a while, and when she came back, she’d still be in the locker.  
   
But she woke up anyway.  She was looking up at a blurry accoustic-tile ceiling, and a girl in a white hooded costume, one with a red cross on the front.  She was a little slower to recognise Panacea than Danny, because the last of the sedatives were still clearing themselves out of her system.  
   
***  
   
Panacea knew that she would be more lucid in just a minute.  Her system was strong; she was a fundamentally healthy person.  
   
 _She gets her skinny genes from her dad; she’ll never be overweight.  Poor girl will never get past a B-cup._ She frowned.  _She’s fifteen, and she’s been having a lot of sex recently.  Fresh semen still inside her, from this morning?  No pill, no visible contraception.  Pregnant?_  
   
A quick check said no.   _Good. I’d hate to see her ruin her life over a mistake like this._  
   
And then Taylor seemed to come into focus.  
   
***  
   
 _Where am I -?_  
   
And she  _knew_ , even as she posed the thought.  
   
 _Brockton Bay General Hospital, third floor, west wing, second ward, bed 36._  
   
 _Where’s Dad?_  
   
 _Four yards **that**  way._  
   
 _Alive, awake, concerned, thinking about me._  
   
 _Aww, that’s so sweet.  I love you too, Dad._  
   
The girl –  _Panacea, of New Wave_ , she recalled now – looked at her with just a little concern as she closed her eyes again.  
   
“Are you feeling all right, Miss Hebert?” she asked gently.  
   
Taylor nodded.  She sat up for herself, reached out, grabbed a cup, poured water from the plastic jug, drank.  
   
“I’m fine,” she said, once she had swallowed.  “Is Dad okay?”  
   
***  
   
“Taylor,” said Danny, and sat up in bed.  He swung his legs over the side, grunting in annoyance at the splint. Then he disappeared in a cloud of purple-brown smoke.  
   
***  
   
Panacea jumped as purple-brown smoke billowed out of nowhere, then dissipated to reveal Danny by Taylor’s bedside.  Taylor opened her eyes and hugged him tightly; his arms went around her, no less tightly.  
   
“Dad …” she said, her face buried in his chest.  
   
“Taylor …” he replied, tears leaking from his tightly shut eyes.  
   
“Dad …”  
   
“Taylor …”  
   
They were silent for a moment then, as Miss Militia came around the curtains to stare at them.  
   
“Damn,” she said.  
   
“That was precision teleporting, right there,” said Panacea.  “Six inches clearance in any direction.”  
   
“Damn,” said Miss Militia again.  
   
Danny let his grip around Taylor loosen just slightly, and he pulled back to look at her.  “Are you all right, kiddo? Really all right?”  
   
She nodded, tearfully.  “Really all right,” she said.  “Now that you’re here.”  
   
“Not going anywhere,” he assured her.  
   
“Uh, just so you know,” interjected Panacea, “Taylor had several cuts and bruises and other contusions.  Also, several minor infections.  What the hospital staff did not fix, I did.  So she’s totally healthy.”  
   
“Thank you,” said Danny, his relief heartfelt.  “Thank you.”  He didn’t let go of Taylor.  
   
“And Dad?” said Taylor to Panacea.  “Is he okay?  That bandage … that splint …”  
   
Panacea nodded.  “He’s fine.  I healed the injuries he took.  There was no appreciable brain damage.”  
   
“Thank you,” said Taylor.  “Really. Thank you.”  
   
Panacea smiled.  “It was the least I could do. Would you like us to contact your boyfriend for you?”  
   
Taylor frowned.  “I don’t  _have_  a boyfriend,” she said without thinking.  
   
Panacea blinked.  A few things started coming together.   _Father and daughter. Living together.  Both have had quite a lot of sex very recently._  Her hand, unobtrusively, rested on Taylor’s arm.   _There’s no spermatozoa at all inside her.  It’s just semen.  Such as a man with a vasectomy might leave._  
  
 _Oh fuck, he’s molesting her._  
  
 _How do I deal with this?_  
   
“Miss Miliitia,” she said, keeping her voice level with an effort, “could you please take Mr Hebert for a walk, and tell him about what he needs to know?  I need to have a talk with Miss Hebert here about come basic medical issues.”  
   
Miss Militia frowned, but nodded.  “Danny,” she said, “do you drink coffee?  There’s a machine down the hall that produces something that pretends to be the stuff …”  
   
Danny allowed himself to be led away.  
   
Panaceea turned to Taylor, who was looking puzzled.  “What medical matters?” Taylor asked.  
   
Panacea lowered her voice.  “Taylor,” she said carefully.  “You can tell us.  We can lock him up, stop him from hurting you.”  
   
Taylor frowned.  “Stop  _who_  from hurting me?”  
   
Panacea tilted her head at the doorway, where Danny had disappeared.  “Your father,” she said.  “He’s forcing you to have sex with him, isn’t he?”  
   
Taylor’s eyes went very wide.  
   
***  
   
Out in the corridor, Danny paused and almost turned back.  Miss Militia stopped.  “Danny,” she said firmly, “Panacea said she wanted a  _private_  conversation with your daughter.”  
   
He frowned and went on.   _What just frightened her?_   Then he paused.   _How did I know she was frightened just then?_  
   
In an effort to distract himself, he turned to her.  “Sorry,” he said.  “You were saying I’m a teleporter?  When did that happen?”  
   
She smiled.  “In times of stress, Mr Hebert …”  
   
***  
   
 _“No!”_  whispered Taylor urgently.  “You have to  _understand!_   He’s not  _forcing_  me!  I  _asked_  him to!   _I_  had to virtually force  _him!”_   Tears welled in her eyes.  “You don’t  _understand!_ I  _needed_  it.  I needed  _him._   I still do.  He’s all I’ve got.  What we do is the only thing that keeps me sane.”  
   
Panacea shook her head.  “Why?” she asked.  “How?”  
   
“You know who put me  _in_  that fucking locker?” demanded Taylor, her voice rising despite her intent to keep it quiet.  “The same three bitches who have been making my life hell for the last two and a half years.  They’ve been bullying me, taking my stuff, destroying it, and laughing at me.  And nothing I do works, and they always get away with it.”  She grabbed Panacea by the arm.  “His love is the only thing that’s keeping me going.   _Please_  don’t tell anyone.”  
   
Panacea stared at her.   _She’s like me,_  she thought.    
   
 _She feels for her father what I feel for my sister._  
   
 _How can I condemn that?_  
   
Finally, she took a deep breath.  “Okay,” she said.  “But I’m going to want to sit down with you sometime, and have a very long, very serious chat. All right?”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”  Her smile was tremulous, but genuine.  
   
Panacea frowned.  “So you know for a fact who put you in there?” she asked.  
   
Taylor fell back on the pillow, her eyes closed.  “Oh, I always  _know_  who does it to me,” she said, her arm over her face.  “But I can never prove it, and no matter how many times I complain, they always walk.  I have no idea why.  Maybe someone in the faculty just hates me for some reason.”  
   
“That’s terrible,” said Panacea, reaching out and taking hold of her hand.  “What are their names?  Maybe we can pass them on to the school and ask that something be done.”  
   
Taylor sighed.  “Fat fucking lot of use that’ll do.”  
   
Panacea squeezed her hand.  “I’ll go myself,” she promised.  
   
Taylor chuckled.  “I’d like to see that, actually. Okay, Emma Barnes –“  
   
She  _saw_  Emma, practising piano scales.  And she knew exactly where she was; upstairs in her father’s house.  
   
 _Wow, that’s weird,_  she thought.   _I’ve never seen her wearing **that**  outfit._  
   
“Yes?” asked Panacea.  
   
“Oh, and Madison Clements,” said Taylor.  And as she said the name, concentrated on the person, she saw Madison curled up on a bed in a strange bedroom – 1743 South Privet Drive, she knew without knowing how she knew – talking on a mobile phone.  She knew  _exactly_  where Madison was.  
   
 _That’s so weird_ , she thought.  
   
“And the third?” pressed Panacea.  
   
“Uh, Sophia Hess,” said Taylor.  Of the three, Sophia was the one she was most scared of.  Emma could hurt her with cutting words, and Madison with cruelly calculated pranks, but Sophia left bruises.  
   
As she said the name, she saw Sophia.  In a room she didn’t recognise.  Other figures were standing around here, but were blurry.  But she  _knew_  where the room was.  
   
She took her hand away from her eyes.  “That’s really fucking weird,” she said out loud.  
   
“What is?” asked Panacea.  
   
“Sophia Hess, at this moment, is in the PRT building, downtown.  Talking to someone.  Why is she there?”  
   
Panacea stared at her, nonplussed.  “What do you mean, she’s in the PRT building?”  
   
“I mean, she’s in the fucking PRT building.  Right now.  Or I’m having the weirdest fucking hallucination.”  Taylor knew her language was getting away from her. “Sorry, sorry.”  
   
She saw Glory Girl looking around the door, drawn by her raised voice.  “Sorry, my bad.  Won’t happen again.”  Glory Girl frowned and  disappeared.  
   
“Glory Girl,” called Panacea.  Vicky reappeared.  “Could you get Miss Militia for me?”  
   
Vicky nodded, and disappeared again.  
   
***  
   
Miss Militia had just talked Danny into stepping from one end of a length of hallway to the other and back, with the characteristic clouds of quickly-dissipating purple-brown smoke, when Glory Girl appeared at her side.  “Panacea wants to see you,” she said quietly.  
   
Miss Militia turned to Danny.  “I’ve got to –“ she began., but Danny had already disappered.  
   
“He doesn’t even make a noise when he does it,” she complained.  
   
“Would you prefer something like ‘bamf’?” quipped Glory Girl.  Miss Militia shot her a dirty look.  
   
***  
   
When she got back, Taylor was sitting up in bed.  
   
“I’m not kidding, Dad, I swear to you!”  She was somewhat agitated, but she was holding both his hands in hers. “She’s right there.  Talking to someone.  I can see it as clear as I can see you!”  
   
Panacea met Miss Militia at the door.  “Can you tell me if a student named Sophia Hess has been taken to the PRT building?” she asked quietly.  
   
Miss Militia paused.  “Why do you ask that?” she said carefully.  
   
Panacea went to speak, then stopped.  “Just humour me, okay?”  
   
Miss Militia turned away and pulled out her comm.  
   
***  
   
“Miss Militia to base, please respond.”  
   
 _“Base to Miss Militia, reading you five by five.”_  
   
“Base, I have a location request for Shadow Stalker, repeat, Shadow Stalker.”  
   
 _“Miss Militia, I have Shadow Stalker on base, in conference with Aegis.  Would you like a connection?”_  
   
“Negative, Base.  Miss Militia, out.”  
   
***  
   
She turned back to Panacea.  “You're right.  She's there.  How did you know?”  
   
Panacea looked at her.  “I think ... I think they  _both_  triggered.”  
   
Miss Militia stared.   _“Both?”_  
   
Panacea nodded.  “So … you have  _two_  capes on your hands.  And I think Taylor is a Thinker, a locator.”  
  
Miss Militia ran her fingers through her hair, looked over to where Taylor was sitting up, holding Danny closely.  "Damn."  
   
Panacea paused.  “I have a question.  Is Sophia Hess … a Ward?”  
   
Miss Militia frowned.  “I can’t answer that.  If she was, it might reveal her secret identity.”  
   
“But what if she was one of the people who put Taylor in that locker?”  
   
Miss Militia stared.  “Say that again.”  
   
It didn’t sound any better the second time around.


	8. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interesting facts come to light, and Danny and Taylor embrace who they are

 “Oh, you have got to be fucking  _kidding_  me,” snarled Danny, looking as angry as Taylor had ever seen him. “One of the girls who’s been giving Taylor hell for more than  _two years_  is a Ward, and you never picked up on it?”  
   
Miss Militia looked rather embarrassed.  Panacea stood off to the side, watching Taylor and Danny sympathetically.  Now that she knew their situation, she could see how deep the bond was between them.  
   
 _It’s not abuse,_  she understood.   _It’s not a sick or twisted thing.  It’s love.  Just … different.  And with what they’ve been through, I would hesitate to call it wrong._  
   
Vicky joined her, watching Danny confront Miss Militia with interest.  
   
“What’s going on?” she asked in an undertone.  “There’s nothing else interesting happening around here.  How come Mr Herbert’s ripping chunks off Miss Militia?”  
   
“It’s ‘Hebert’,” Amy corrected her, “and they just found that one of the girls who shoved her in the locker was Shadow Stalker.”  
   
Vicky’s eyes grew wide.  “Well,  _fuck,”_  she muttered.   _“That’s_  a fucking turn-up for the books.”  
   
“Mr Hebert – Danny – “ said Miss Militia placatingly, “we try to give our Wards enough leeway to have normal lives while in school, though we also try to ensure that they can get away in order to carry out the superheroic side of their lives without too much trouble.”  
   
“So you tell the schools, she’s a Ward, don’t question any absences, and they decide that means, give her carte blanche to  _bully other girls?”_  he shouted in her face.  “Yeah, that’s a really smart way to let them have their normal lives.  Did you perhaps stop to fucking think that maybe her idea of a ‘normal life’ is to  _hurt_  people?  For  _fuck’s_  sake!”  
   
Turning to Taylor, he said, “Okay, kiddo, let’s go.  I’m taking you home.”  
   
Miss Militia stepped forward.  “Wait –“  
   
“I’m. Fucking.  Done.  Waiting,” he snarled.  “You want me in the fucking Protectorate?  Well, until your precious fucking Shadow Stalker is either behind bars or fucking  _dead_ , then forget it!  Clean up your own fucking messes for once!”  
   
And purple-brown smoke billowed around them, and they were gone.  
   
“Damn,” said Miss Militia.  She looked at the other two.  “For the  _record_ , I wanted to tell him that we still had his personal effects. And Taylor’s.”  
   
“Right,” said Panacea.  
   
“Got it,” said Glory Girl.  
   
“Never doubted it,” said Panacea.  
   
“But if you want my advice …” said Glory Girl.  
   
Miss Militia looked at her suspiciously.  
   
“Do what he says.  Fix this shit,” said Glory Girl.   
   
Panacea nodded.  “Come down hard on Shadow Stalker and her friends.  If she’s guilty, throw the book at her.  And  _then_ …”  
   
Glory Girl nodded.  “And then go to him and very humbly ask him to reconsider.”  
   
“And invite Taylor to join the Wards too, of course,” agreed Panacea.  “I doubt very much that they’ll want to be apart.”  
   
Miss Militia frowned.  “I’ll be taking that under advisement.”  She nodded at the two of them.  “I’ll stand down the guards.  Thank you for your assistance.  Have a good day.”  
   
Amy nodded at Victoria.  “Time we went,” she said with a smile.  
   
***  
   
They appeared in the middle of the living room.  The purple-brown cloud dissipated around them, and they looked around.  It was undisturbed.  Taylor clung tightly to him; she wore hopsital-issue soft flannel pyjamas, while he wore a classic backless hospital gown.  
   
He leaned down and kissed her; she responded avidly, her tongue erotically squirming around his.  Their shared arousal deepened; he pulled open her pyjama top, the clips popping free. Her bare breasts were revealed beneath. He knelt down and suckled on them; she moaned and ran her fingers through his hair.  
   
Standing, he scooped her into his arms and carried her upstairs.  
   
“My place or yours?” he murmured.  
   
She giggled.  “Drop me off in mine; I’ll meet you in yours.”  
   
He did just that; by the time he had the gown off and was on the bed waiting, she was back.  She was wearing that amazingly slutty bikini, which almost covered her nipples and her labia.  
   
“Wow,” he said.  “You look like you need a good hard fuck.”  
   
She grinned at him.  “Dad,” she said, “I really need a good hard fuck.  Now, can you do me a favour and pull something out of my head?”  She crawled on top of him and kissed him avidly; he felt an image drifting into his mind, and he instinctively reached out for it. A puff of purple-brown smoke, and he held the tub of Vaseline that had been in the medicine cabinet.  
   
“Really?’ he asked.  
   
“Yes, really,” she said huskily.  “After what you did for me today, I really, really want you to enjoy me in every way possible.”  She pulled the bikini bottom down and spread her ass cheeks.  “Spread it on as thickly as you can, Dad.”  
   
He daubed it on liberally, then eased two fingers, well-lubricated, into her ass. She moaned and gripped the sheets as his fingers invaded her, but she did not clench up and she did not tell him to stop.  
   
When her ass was as lubricated as he could make it, and his throbbing erection was also coated in the same stuff, she lay on her back, holding her legs up and apart. Reaching down, she held her buttocks apart so that her anal opening gaped invitingly.  
   
Getting on top, so that her legs rested on his shoulders, he placed the tip of his penis between her buttocks, and slowly began to press into her.  
   
She gasped as his head popped in through her anal sphincter, but did not ask him to stop.  Slowly, slowly, he slid into her, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.  
   
But none came.  Inch after inch slid into her tight young asshole, until she felt herself filled up beyond measure, and still he pushed inside her.  At last, he came to a stop, and she felt the tickling of his pubic hair on her labia.  
   
“Oh god, Dad,” she whispered.  “You’re so fucking big in my ass.”  
   
“And you’re so fucking tight,” he agreed.  Already, his cock was starting to convulse in that way that he knew immediately presaged climax; her tight hot ass felt so good around his penis.  
   
Slowly, he drew out a little, then slid into her once more.  She gasped.  “Oh fuck, Dad.  Oh fuck.  That’s just … oh fuck.”  
   
She couldn’t believe how big, how thick, he felt inside her.  She didn’t know if it was pleasure or pain she was feeling, or some balance of the two, but she knew she didn’t want him to stop.  
   
And he knew this.  He could feel it in her. She wanted him to do this to her. And he so wanted to do it.  
   
Another slow stroke, and a third, and then he couldn’t help it; he began to pump in and out of her faster and faster, his hips taking over, his penis sliding into her deeper and deeper.  She gasped and bucked under him as he drove his cock hard into her ass and ejaculated, crying out with the force of his orgasm.  
   
She felt him cum inside her, spraying deep inside her bowels, and she was so close. He kept sliding his penis into her, over and over, as his climax filled her with his white cum, jetting deep within her.  And then she came herself, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it, as an orgasm blasted from her toes to the top of her head, nearly setting her ears on fire.  
   
She felt his orgasm; he felt hers.  And they mixed, and combined, so that they clung to each other, his cock still pumping into her ass, both still shuddering with pleasure, until long after the last droplet of semen had been milked from his softening penis.  
   
He slid out of her and she brought her legs down to lie on the bed.  They lay in one anothers’ arms.  
   
“Oh god,” she moaned.  “Oh god.”  
   
“Oh god is right," he agreed shakily.  He breathed deeply, regaining his scattered thoughts.  "How is it?” he asked.  She knew what he meant.  
   
“Sore,” she admitted.  “But  _oh_  so satisfied.”  She snuggled into his chest; naked, sweaty and unashamed.  “I wanna do that again sometime, when it isn’t so sore.”  
   
He grinned and kissed her gently.  “We will, kiddo.  Shower?”  
   
She smiled and kissed him back.  “Oh yeah. I know they bathed me, but I still want to scrub that shit off me.”  
   
***  
   
 _“Shadow Stalker … please report to the Director’s office … Shadow Stalker … please report to the Director’s office.”_  
   
“Oh, what the  _fuck?”_  Sophia snarled.  She looked at Aegis.  “Seriously? I just got through with talking to you over the thing at the school.  Now I have to go talk to  _her_  about it?”  
   
“Hey,” said Clockblocker, leaning lazily back against a computer terminal.  “Miss Piggy isn’t happy unless she hears about it first hand.”  
   
“You shouldn’t call her that,” said Aegis reprovingly, but there was no heat in his comment.  
   
“Yeah, well,” began Clockblocker, but the rest of what he heard was lost to Sophia as she went to change into costume.  
   
She took just as long as she thought she could get away with, drawing it out, but finally the last accessory was placed just right, and her costume had no wrinkles in it anywhere.  So she strode out of the Wards’ area and entered the elevator that would take her to the officer of the regional Director of the PRT.  
   
***  
   
They walked out of the hospital, and Victoria scooped Amy into her arms.  
   
It was fun, flying with Vicky.  She felt so  _safe_.  Leaning against her sister’s shoulder, she sighed.  
   
“What’s up, Ames?” asked Victoria with a smile.  “That sounded sad.”  
   
“I just got a reminder that some things don’t last forever.  And that I should say some things to some people before it’s too late.”  
   
“Oh?” said Vicky.  “Like what?”  
   
Amy took a deep breath.  “Vicky, can you promise me that what I say next, you won’t freak out, and you won’t tell  _anyone?_   Especially Carol?”  
   
Glory Girl looked a little worried.  “Now you’re scaring me, Ames.  What is it? Do you have some condition?  Are your powers killing you?”  
   
Amy smiled and shook her head.  “Nothing like that.  But I need you to promise.”  
   
“Okay,” said Victoria.  “I promise.”  
   
Amy looked her in the eye and said, “Victoria Dallon, I am in love with you.”  
   
***  
   
In the shower, she washed his penis off, then sucked him to erection, and he slid into her vagina as if he were coming home.  They made love under the streaming water, slow and gentle and sweet, holding each other and kissing gently, caressing, making it last.  Her orgasms were a thing of beauty, breaking waves of pleasure that left her shaking and breathless.    
   
He felt them, and it pushed him to his own climax, blasting the both of them with a white-hot ecstasy that only enhanced her own ongoing orgasms.  The resultant recombination of orgasmic pleasure left them slumped on the floor of the shower stall, semi-conscious, while his penis still pumped semen into her soft, pulsing vaginal canal.  
   
When she recovered enough to speak, she said softly, “Wow.  Fuck.  That was …”  
   
He blinked groggily.  “The first time wasn’t  a fluke.”  
   
She shook her head.  “It wasn’t. I’m feeling what you’re feeling. And when we’re this close in contact, it’s pleasure as well as emotions.”  
   
“God damn,” he said feelingly.  “It must be our powers.  They’ve given us a connection.  And sex comes through that connection loud and clear.”  
   
“Whatever it is,” she giggled, “I’m all in favour of it.”  
   
“Me too, kiddo,” he agreed.  “Me too.”  
   
His penis slid out of her with a wet  _plop_.  She giggled and snuggled into his embrace.  
   
“You think they’ll do anything about Sophia now?” he asked idly, playing with her nipples.  
   
She grinned and kissed him.  “Oh, I think so,” she said.  
   
***  
   
The door to the office opened, and Shadow Stalker entered.  Director Piggot looked up; her face registered disapproval. “While I understand that it takes some little time to get your costume on, Miss Hess,” she said, “a little more promptness may be in order.”    
   
“I’m sorry,” said Shadow Stalker insincerely.  Director Piggot would have to know it was insincere, but so long as she said the words, they couldn’t fault her on how she said it.  “What is you wanted to see me about?”  
   
Director Piggot nodded off to the side, where Miss Militia flanked Armsmaster. “Those two will explain it better than I can.  If you will?”  
   
Armsmaster nodded to Miss Militia, who stepped forward.  “I interviewed Taylor Hebert at the hospital today,” she said crisply.  “She spoke of three girls who have been bullying her for the last two and a half years, and who are the prime suspects for having shoved her into her locker this morning.”  
   
A cold feeling rolled through Shadow Stalker.   _Bluff it out, bluff it out._   “What’s this got to do with me?” she asked, trying to strike a light tone.  
   
Miss Militia looked her directly in the eye.  “Did you have anything to do with Taylor Hebert being criminally assaulted and imprisoned in her own locker at Winslow High, this morning?” she asked directly.  
   
Sophia stared boldly back at her.   _She can't see my face.  She can't see my face,_  she told herself. “No,” she said flatly.  
   
“That’s a lie,” said Armsmaster.  
   
Sophia stared at him.  The chilly feeling intensified.  “I’m not lying!” she blurted.  
   
“I have a lie detector in my helmet,” he told her coldly.  “It says otherwise.”  
   
“One more time, Sophia,” said Miss Militia implacably, “Have you been bullying Taylor Hebert for two and a half years, and did you help lock her in her locker this morning?”  
   
Her nerve broke; she turned to shadow, darted toward the windows behind Director Piggot’s desk.   _They’ll expect me to go for the door._  
   
There was a taser in Miss Militia’s hand.  She swung it, looking for a clear shot.  
   
Shadow Stalker reached the window, hit it.  A crackling buzz of electricity surged through her.  She solidified, fell to the floor in a tangled heap.  
   
Director Piggot looked dispassionately down at her as Armsmaster secured her with specialty cuffs.  “I think we can call that a confession of guilt,” she said blandly.  “I am going to have to thank Kid Win for installing that anti-intruder mesh over my windows.  Though I have to admit, I thought it would serve to keep intangible people  _out_ , rather than  _in.”_  
   
Armsmaster nodded.  “Well, I’ll go get her processed in.”  He hefted the unconscious girl over his shoulder, and looked at Miss Militia. “You can call the Heberts and give them the good news.”  
   
She grimaced.  “I’m not looking forward to this,” she confessed.  “I hate looking like a fool in front of anyone, and Shadow Stalker made me look like a fool in front of Danny Hebert.”  
   
“She made fools of us all,” Armsmaster reminded her, on his way out the door. “Time to make it right.”  
   
She nodded, and pulled out her phone.  
   
***  
   
Glory Girl and Panacea sat on a rooftop.  
   
“Wait, wait, let me get this straight,” said Victoria.  “You find me sexy, and you want to sleep with me?”  Disbelief and disquiet warred in her tone.  
   
 _“Yes,”_ said Amy.  “I love you, and I want to hold you in my arms every night.”  Her voice was patient; this was perhaps the fourth time they had gone through this.  Victoria apparently had trouble fitting it into her worldview.  
   
Victoria shook her head.  “Where did this come from?  You’re my  _sister_ , Ames.”   _You're supposed to act like it_ , her tone said.  
   
“Only adopted,” Panacea reminded her.  “Besides, you’re smart, you’re sexy, you’re beautiful.”  She blushed.  "I really ... I mean ... I've had the urge to ... I just want to grab you and kiss you sometimes."  
   
 _“Ames!”_  protested Victoria, blushing bright red in her turn. “You did  _not_  just say that!”  
   
Amy nodded.  “I did too,” she contradicted Glory Girl.  “Besides, this is all your fault.”  
   
Vicky shook her head.  “It’s my fault you’ve got the hots for me?  How’s that?” she asked.  
   
Amy raised an eyebrow.  “Remember the first time you let your awe aura go full blast?”  
   
Victoria giggled.  “Oh yeah.  That was interesting.”  
   
Amy nodded.  “That was the first time I looked at you and wanted to see what was  _under_  your clothes, rather than just loving you as a sister.”  
   
Vicky looked stunned.  “My  _aura?_ Is that possible?”  
   
Panacea shrugged.  “If it affects brain chemistry … sure.  I was young –“ loftily ignoring the fact that she was still only sixteen, “ – and your aura hit me right between the eyes.  Made you into my ideal sexual partner.  Every time I felt it after that, it just made me feel all the more attracted to you.”  
   
Victoria put her face in her hands.  “Well, fuck,” she said, her voice slightly muffled.  
   
Panacea went to put her arm around her; Glory Girl flinched back.  “Hey –“  
   
“Whoa, whoa,” said Amy.  “Just a hug.  I can still give you those, even if I’m hot for your sexy bod.”  
   
That brought a reluctant chuckle out of Victoria.  “Okay, just keep it clean, all right?” she said.  She accepted the hug, and after a moment, leaned into it.  
   
“See?” said Amy.  “I  _can_  control myself.”  
   
Vicky snorted.  “I guess.”  A pause.  “I always thought you had a crush on Dean.”  
   
Amy shook her head.  “I was jealous of him.  I wanted to be where he was.  Especially when you two started having sex.”  
   
Victoria blushed again.  “You  _knew_  about that?” she asked.  
   
Amy giggled.  “Biokinetic, remember?  If I touch you, I know about things like endorphin levels, how long since you’ve had sex, and so on.  I’m guessing Dean uses a condom?”  
   
Glory Girl nodded.  “He’s nice like that.”  She eyed Amy.  “So where do we go from here?”  
   
Amy shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’ll keep going as we are, if you want me to.  I love you, but I know you love Dean, and he loves you – “  
   
“Well, dunno about ‘love’, but he’s great in the sack,” grinned Victoria.  
   
Amy rolled her eyes.   _“As_  I was saying, I just wanted you to know it.  If you ever, you know, felt curious about that sort of thing.  I’m here for you.  Any time.”  
   
Victoria grinned and punched her – very lightly – on the shoulder.  “Well, I love you too, Ames.  In a non-I-want-to-jump-your-bones way.  So we’ll keep going on as normal, if you’re okay with that.”  
   
Amy smiled.  “Just so long as you’re happy, Vicky.  That’s all I want.”  
   
Victoria nodded.  Then she paused. “Actually,” she said.  
   
“Actually?” asked Amy.  
   
Vicky turned to look at her.  “Yeah, actually.  I’ve sometimes wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl.  Not seriously, you know.  Just wondered.  Because there are some damn sexy chicks out there in some damn sexy costumes.”  
   
 _I’m sitting right next to one_ , thought Amy very loudly. But all she said was, “Yes?”  
   
“And I was wondering … now that you’ve confessed your undying love and all that … if I could ask you for a favour.”  She paused.  “Just a kiss.  One kiss, is all.  So I know what it’s like.  Nothing more, no making out, no putting your hands anywhere they shouldn’t go.”  She gave Amy a severe stare.  “Can you handle that?”  
   
Amy felt her heart leap.  “I can,” she said, hoping her voice would not betray her.  “Just one kiss.  I can do that.”  
   
 _Oh my god,_  thought Amy.  _She's going to do this!  She's going to kiss me!_  
  
Vicky smiled and leaned in toward her.    
  
 _I'm **straight**_ , Vicky told herself firmly.  _I like **boys**.  But I love Amy too, and if this helps her a little bit ...  
  
For her, I'll do this.  Just a kiss.  
  
I hope she appreciates what I'm doing for her._  
  
Amy reached out, put her arms around Vicky’s neck.  They moved their heads awkwardly, turning the same way, then Amy corrected with a giggle.  And then their lips met.  
  
To Amy it was wonderful, fireworks, the culmination of a thousand sweaty nights’ clutching her pillow and wishing it was Victoria.  The warm pressure of Victoria’s lips on hers sent bolts of sensation throughout her body.  
  
To Victoria, it was ... different.  She had kissed boys before, but this was unlike any of those.  Soft, yielding, inviting ... and the knowledge that it was Amy did not disgust her; it instead added a tingle of forbidden delight.  
   
And then it ended, and Amy slumped back, breathing heavily.   _Oh my god_ , she thought.   _Oh my god.  Now I can die happy._  
   
Vicky looked at her, expression unreadable.  “That … wasn’t half bad, actually,” she said.  “You're a nice kisser.”    
  
Her thoughts were a little more chaotic.  _I think I **liked**  that.  How could I like kissing a  **girl?**   And my  **sister?**   What's  **wrong**  with me?_  
  
Amy smiled shakily.  “Any time, Vicks,” she said softly.  “Any time at all.”  
   
Vicky stood, and Amy stood with her.  Vicky scooped her up in her arms.  
   
“Not saying we'll ever do this again, mind,” she said, but her smile was soft and tender.  
   
Amy closed her eyes and snuggled into her sister’s embrace.  
   
***  
   
Taylor and Danny lay naked in his bed.  They weren’t making love at the moment, as the last two monumental sessions had left Danny somewhat drained.  But they embraced and murmured a quiet conversation which led nowhere, and had more to do with the love they shared than any semantic content.  
   
And then the phone downstairs rang.  
   
Danny grumbled something, stood up from the bed, and disappeared in a puff of brown and purple smoke.  A moment later, the phone stopped ringing as he answered it.  
   
Taylor lay back in bed, luxuriating in the utter bliss she was feeling.  Her ass was still a little sore, but it was a  _good_  kind of sore.  She was out of that locker, and her father was just a thought away.  And he loved her, and he was definitely getting more proactive with making love.  
   
She watched his boxers, discarded on the floor, disappear in a puff of smoke; downstairs, she knew he was putting them on as he spoke on the phone.  
   
Idly, she wondered where Sophia was.  To her delight and amazement, she saw the dark-haired girl, in full costume, being carried unconscious through a corridor within the PRT building, over someone’s shoulder.  She wore cuffs of a design that Taylor was unfamiliar with.  
   
Her father reappeared in the bedroom, his boxers still at half-mast.  
   
“Guess what?” he asked with a grin.  
   
“They got Sophia,” she said.  
   
“How did  _you_  know?” he asked, looking surprised.  
   
She grinned.  “I can see her.  She’s unconscious and handcuffed.”  
   
He grinned right back.  “Miss Militia said they’ll be pressing as many charges as they can, and would we pretty please like to come by to talk about the charges, and about you joining the Wards and me joining the Protectorate.”  
   
She smiled.  “I’d  _love_  to.” Stretching luxuriantly, she opened her thighs invitingly.  “Quickie for the road?”  She grinned.  “After all, we have no travel time to worry about.”  
   
He nodded appreciatively.  “You have a good point.”  He let his boxers slide to the floor once more.  
   
Climbing on to the bed, he poised over her.  As she guided him into her, he lowered his face to hers, and kissed her lovingly.  She kissed him back passionately, bucking her pelvis up to meet his thrusts.  The waves of pleasure quickly built into a crescendo; she was aware of only one thought.  
  
 _I love my Dad._


	9. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The PRT begins to find out the extent of the powers possessed by Danny and Taylor

Taylor kissed her father, then climbed out of bed and padded off to the bathroom to relieve herself and wipe away the evidence of their lovemaking.  Then she went to her room and began to dress.  
   
He got up himself and dressed in a smart casual style; good trousers, slip-on shoes, button-up shirt, sports jacket.   _No tie_ , he decided.   _ **They’re**  asking  **us** to attend._  
   
Taylor reappeared at the bedroom door, wearing the sundress he had gifted to her on Christmas Day.  She had on just a touch of lip gloss; all the makeup she felt competent to apply.  
   
He thought she looked sexy as hell.  
   
She gave him a wry smile.  “You know, all our personal stuff and my glasses are still in evidence lockers in the PRT?”  
   
“Really?” he asked.  “Where?”  
   
She leaned up and kissed him gently on the lips.  It was all that he needed.  
   
Two puffs of brown-purple smoke expanded out from his hands, dissipated.  In each hand now lay a large zip-lock bag.  One was marked PROPERTY TAYLOR HEBERT and the other was marked PROPERTY DANIEL HEBERT.  
   
Taylor took hers, opened it, took out her glasses, put them on.  
   
“Well, at least they  _cleaned_  everything,” she said with satisfaction. She began tucking everything else into her small shoulder purse.  
   
Danny nodded, putting his wallet in his trouser pocket and hefting the vehicle keys with a grin.  “You realise, we just travelled across town and got into the house without once needing these,” he said, tapping the house key that was appended to the keyring.  
   
Taylor giggled and kissed him again.  “I love you, Dad,” she said softly.  She looked down at the dress.  “Is this too formal?  Maybe I should have gone for jeans and t-shirt?”  
   
He stepped up close to her.  "If you were wearing jeans," he said softly, "I wouldn't be able to do this."  He reached down and pulled her skirt up, reaching underneath.  She was wearing her Victoria’s Secret underwear … so very, very sheer.  He rubbed her already-wet labia through them.  
   
She arched her back and gasped.  "Dad! They’re waiting on us!"  
   
"I know," he whispered, kissing her hard and squeezing her breast through the thin fabric of the dress.  She gasped, pressing against him.  "Let ‘em wait a little longer."  He squeezed her breast again.  "No bra?  I  _like_  it."  
   
She kissed him back, pushing her crotch at his rubbing hand.  Then she gasped as he pushed aside the flimsy material and slipped a finger into her.  She was very wet.  
   
"Oh god, Dad," she moaned.  She turned away abruptly, bent over the bed, pulled her sundress up around her waist. The dampness had soaked through her panties, making them transparent.  He could see her distended pussy lips clearly.  "Make love to me.  Please.  Now."  
  
He unzipped his pants, extracted his penis, which was now quite hard.  "I thought you'd never ask."  Pulling down her panties, he poised at the entrance to her vagina.  "Do you want it in the pussy or ass?"  
   
She looked back over her shoulder.  "I need you inside my pussy, Dad.  You can have my ass later."  She had the top of her dress open, and was playing with her breasts.  
   
"Your wish is my command," he groaned, and started to slide his rampantly erect penis into her soft, slick, warm vaginal canal.  She moaned, biting her lip, trying not to make too much noise. When he was fully embedded in her, he began to work back and forth, sliding his hard member into her over and over again.  
   
They were both very turned on, so it didn't take long for him to empty out inside her; she rubbed her clit furiously, and came a few seconds later, screaming her orgasm into the bedcovers.  
   
He pulled her panties up, and she stood up, letting her skirt fall back into place, buttoning up her top.  He tucked himself away, and zipped up.  
   
She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder for just a moment, catching her breath. “Thanks, Dad.  I needed that.”  
   
“Anytime.” He lifted her chin and examined her face. “Your makeup looks perfect. I can’t even tell that you’ve got any on.” He grinned. “You’re gonna be beating off the Wards with a stick.  The girls as well as the boys.”  
   
“Da-ad!” Taylor pulled her head away with a giggle, flushing slightly.  
   
“What?” he grinned. “You're a sexy, sexy girl.” He took a deep breath. “How do I look?”  
   
She looked him over critically. He had the potential to look silly, like a scarecrow dressed up in cast-off finery, but in point of fact, he looked quite dapper. Smart casual was a look that worked for him.  
   
“You look nice, Dad,” she said finally, and kissed him one more time. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have take me to bed and make love to me all night.”  She shouldered her small purse.  “Give me a second to clean up again, and we'll knock ‘em dead.”  
   
***  
   
Hand in hand., they appeared side by side in the middle of Director Piggot’s office. The Director, to give her credit, only gave a mild start as the purple-brown smoke billowed up and dissipated once more.  
   
“Commendably fast,” she commented.  “Thank you for accepting our invitation.”  
   
Danny nodded to her.  “Director Piggot,” he acknowledged.  “Thank you for dealing with Shadow Stalker.”  
   
She made a non-commital gesture.  “It was not solely for your daughter’s benefit, Mr Hebert.  Such a state of affairs could not be allowed to continue. Capes have a responsibility that extends to their private lives.”  
   
Miss Militia stepped forward, her hand held out.  “Danny, Taylor.  Thank you for coming.”  
   
Danny shook her hand, followed by Taylor; she had to release Danny’s left hand to do this, and took hold of it once more thereafter.  
   
“Take a seat,” invited the Director.  “I would like to hear about what you know of your powers so far.”  
   
They pulled their chairs closer together, so that they could maintain their handclasp, and sat.  
   
Both Miss Militia and Director Piggot noted the gesture, but neither commented.  
   
“Well,” said Danny, “as Miss Militia probably told you, I can teleport.  I’m guessing my normal range is about city-wide. My normal carrying load is probably about one other adult.”  
   
Director Piggot frowned.  “It says here in this report that you teleported four miles along with a pickup truck.  Was that a fluke?”  
   
Danny shook his head.  “I have no idea.  I don’t recall that.”  
   
“Hm.” Director Piggot scrolled through the report, then looked up.  “Can you do anything else?”  
   
At that moment, her phone rang.  “Excuse me,” she said, and picked it up.  “This had better be very important.  I left a message.  No calls.”  
   
Neither Danny nor Taylor could hear anything apart from a high-pitched squeaking coming from the receiver.  Piggot frowned.  “Really?” she said.  “Did you double check?”  
   
More squeaking.  
   
Piggot compressed her lips together.  “Very well. Keep me informed.”  
   
She put the phone down and looked at Danny and Taylor.  “It appears that your personal effects have disappeared from the evidence lockers where they were being stored,” she said.  “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”  From the tone of her voice, she expected the answer to be in the negative.  
   
“Uh, yes,” said Danny.  “I took them, earlier.”  
   
Piggot stared at him.  “Took them. From a locked evidence locker, inside PRT headquarters.  Without anyone knowing.”  
   
Danny nodded.  “All I needed to know was where they were.”  
   
Piggot shook her head slightly.  “All you needed to know.”  She frowned.  “And how did you know?”  
   
Taylor raised her free hand slightly.  “Uh, that would be me, Director Piggot, ma’am.”  
   
Director Piggot looked at her.  “Taylor. You’re the … locator?”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “If I know what it looks like, or at least enough about it to make it unique, I can zero in on it. Full mental image.  Exact location.”  
   
Piggot spread her hands.  “And your father gets this information how?  Do you tell him?”  
   
Taylor shook her head.  “All we need is physical contact.  He gets the information that way.”  
   
Director Piggot stared.  “He  _reads_  your  _mind?”_  
   
She shook her head.  “I just give him the information he needs.  Like an email address.  Only a lot more complicated.”  
   
“And how long does this take?” asked Piggot.  
   
Taylor shrugged.  “We never timed it.”   _We were doing other things at the time._  “Maybe a second, maybe less?”  
   
“Wait, so let me get this straight,” said Director Piggot.  “If you are given enough information to identify something, then you can locate it, and then pass on that location information to your father, who can go and get it.”  
   
Taylor looked at Danny, who looked back at her.  “That’s about the size of it,” he agreed.  
   
Miss Militia broke in.  “This extends to people, too, doesn’t it?” she asked.  
   
Taylor nodded..  “Uh, yeah,” she said.  “I always know where Dad is now, for instance. Anyone else, I have to think about it for a second.”  
   
“Which is how you  knew that Shadow Stalker was at the PRT building,” said Miss Militia.  
   
Taylor nodded.  “I couldn’t figure it out. That’s why I asked.”  
   
“And what’s your range limit?” asked Director Piggot.  
   
“Normally?” said Taylor.  “About city wide.  But when Dad’s holding my hand? I can’t find one.”  
   
Miss Militia and Director Piggot stared at them both.  
   
“Uh, while Taylor’s holding my hand,” offered Danny, “all bets are off for my teleporting too.  I feel much stronger, much more capable.”  
   
The stare intensified.  
   
“And, uh, while we’re holding hands,” said Taylor, starting to blush under the intense scrutiny, “instead of just one thing, I can focus on a whole lot of things at once, and bring them all up at the same time.”  
   
She shut up.  Director Piggot looked at Miss Militia, who stared back at her boss.  
   
Miss Militia spoke first.  “Worldwide –“  
   
“- perfect –“ put in Director Piggot.  
   
“- clairvoyance,” finished Miss Militia.  
   
“You  _have_  to be kidding me,” Piggot stated.  
   
Taylor shrugged.  “Uh, try me?” she offered. Danny squeezed her hand; she felt his approval as a warm rush through her chest.  
   
“Okay,” said Director Piggot.  She pulled a photo out of a folder, and showed it to Taylor.  It was a plastic bag holding what looked like a battered, nearly destroyed flute.  “Have you ever seen this before?”  
   
“Oh my god,” whispered Taylor.  “Mom’s flute.”  She blinked.  “It’s in evidence locker seven-three-five-nine., seventy-four yards away from this position.”  She turned to her father.  “Dad?”  
   
Danny held up his hand theatrically; there was a burst of purple-brown smoke, and he held the bagged flute.  He handed it across to Taylor, who took it, tears welling from her eyes.  She hugged it to her chest.  
   
“The girls took it from her locker at school,” Danny explained, as Taylor seemed incapable of speech.  “They did  _that_  to it.  Taylor found it, but it was covered in something really vile, so she went looking for a plastic bag.  Then they took it away again, just to screw with her head a second time.  Where was it?”  
   
“In the stuff that spilled out of her locker,” said Miss Militia.  “They apparently decided to give it back.” She stared at Danny.  “Did you just  _pull_  it to you?”  
   
Danny nodded.  “If it’s something I can carry in one hand, I don’t need to go there.”  
   
Again, Miss Militia and Director Piggot looked at each other.  Then Miss Militia looked to Taylor.  “We have Tinkers who can repair that as good as new, if you want,” she said gently.  “It looks like you love it very much.”  
   
Taylor looked up, her eyes full of tears.  “It was Mom’s,” she said.  “Dad gave it to me after she died.  It was the only thing left that was really  _her_.  And they took it, and did  _this_  to it.”  Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.  Danny got up  from his chair, knelt in front of hers, and took her in his arms.  She held him tightly, and buried her face in his shoulder.  
   
Another silent glance passed between Miss Militia and Director Piggot, one of perfect understanding.  There would be no plea-bargaining, no easing of the sentence for Shadow Stalker.  
   
After a minute or so, Danny sat down again, but he kept a firm hold on Taylor’s hand. Her eyes were red, but she had the tears under control.  Using a tissue from her purse, she blew her nose.  Once she had finished, it puffed into purple smoke, reappeared in Danny’s hand, then puffed away again.  
   
Miss Militia raised an eyebrow.  “Where did you send it?” she asked.  
   
“Trash can in the kitchen, at home,” he said offhandedly.  “I know where that is.”  
   
She nodded.  “As I was saying, we could get Kid Win or Armsmaster to see if they can repair your flute.  They are both excellent Tinkers.”  
   
“If you could do that,” said Danny, “that would mean so much to both of us.”  He cleared his throat.  “What else would you like to know?”  
   
Director Piggot cleared her throat.  “You can locate people,” she said.  It was almost a question.  
   
Taylor nodded.  “I just need something to identify them.”  
   
“How about a cape name, if they’re well-known enough?”  
   
Taylor nodded again.  “Sure, I guess.”  
   
Director Piggot took a deep breath.  “Taylor Hebert, can you tell me  the present location of Jack Slash?”  
   
Taylor blinked.  “Uh, sure,” she said. “He’s in a bed and breakfast called Calamus Lodge, in Nebraska.”  
   
Director Piggot hammered keys on her computer.  She called up a map program and located Calamus Lodge.  
   
“I can tell you which room,” Taylor offered.  Piggot didn’t even notice.  She snatched up her phone and dialled rapidly, then spoke even more rapidly.  
   
Miss Militia strolled over to stand by Taylor’s chair.  “You can locate anyone at all?” she asked quietly.  
   
Taylor shrugged.  “Sure,” she said.  “Once I’ve got enough reference points.”  
   
Miss Militia nodded.  “Are the rest of the Slaughterhouse Nine there?”  
   
Taylor blinked.  “I don’t know who they all are.”   
   
“Crawler?” asked Miss Militia.    
   
Taylor paused.  “Yes.”    
   
“Bonesaw?”   
   
“Yes.”   
   
“Mannequin?”    
   
“Yes.”  
   
Miss Militia was staring at her in amazement.  Does it hurt?  Is it a strain?” she asked.  
   
Taylor shook her head, and held up the hand that was gripping Danny’s.  “Not while Dad’s with me,” she said with a wan smile.  
   
Director Piggot put the phone down and smiled a very predatory smile.  “I have just been in touch with Director Costa-Brown. She’s extremely interested in your abilities, Taylor.”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Just so long as they don’t take me away from Dad, I don’t care,” she said.  
   
Miss Militia smiled.  “I doubt there’s much danger of  _that,”_  she said with a smile.  
   
Danny raised a hand.  “Can you access missing-persons files from that computer, Director?” he asked.  
   
The Director nodded, a little taken aback.  “Certainly,” she said.  A few keystrokes later, and the monitor was full of thumbnail-sized pictures.   She turned the monitor around to show them.  
   
Taylor got up and approached the desk; Danny followed, still holding her hand.  
   
She stared at the screen.  Each face impinged on her consciousness separately, then it seemed to fold out, become a screen in her mind.  The faces changed slightly, then expanded until she had a whole-body view of that person.  
   
“Mouse?” she asked.  Director Piggot handed it over.  
   
She began to click rapidly on pictures.  When she finished, a good third of the pictures were highlighted. “Those are all dead,” she said sadly. She pointed at the others. “Hiding … living on the street … in South America … oh god,” she choked.  “She’s chained up in someone’s basement, like a dog.”  
   
Danny clasped her hand tightly.  “Where?” he demanded sharply.  
   
“Wait!” snapped Miss Militia.  “I’m coming with you.”  She stepped forward, and took Danny’s other hand.  Neither Danny nor Taylor argued.  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed around them, and when it dissipated, they were gone.  
   
Director Piggot looked at the highlighted pictures on her screen.  
   
 _Damn,_  she thought.  
   
***  
   
They appeared in a cellar; Danny had instinctively ducked, as the ceiling was low. A teenage girl, filthy and naked, was chained to a metal pipe.  The metal cuff had worn away the skin of her ankle.  
   
Two more children, one about twelve and one about ten, were also in the room, also chained.  
   
The older girl stared at them and screamed.  
   
Taylor stepped forward, towing Danny with her.  “Sh-sh-sh!” she said soothingly.  “We’re superheroes.  We’re here to get you out.”    
   
The girl stared, wide-eyed.  “You’re not wearing costumes.”  
   
Taylor pointed at Miss Militia.  “She’s in the Protectorate.  We’re just beginning.”  She bent down and looked at the chain.  “Is there a lock?”  
   
“No,” said the girl dully.  “He welded them shut.”  
   
“What’s his name?” asked Taylor intently.  
   
“John, I think,” said the girl.  “John Brady.”  
   
Taylor blinked.  A fortyish man, overweight, wearing a wife-beater, filthy jeans.  Getting off a sofa.  Picking up a shotgun.  
   
She waved to get Miss Militia’s attention, pointed at the door.  “One man,” she whispered.  “Shotgun.”  
   
Miss Militia nodded.  She knelt, and pointed an extremely efficient-looking assault rifle at the door.  
   
Danny was staring at the chains.  He concentrated.  Purple-brown fog billowed around the chains, dissipated.  He held three ankle cuffs; the chains dragged free.  The girl, and the two smaller ones, stared at their abraded ankles. Danny put down the cuffs.  
   
Taylor checked on John Brady again.  He was almost at the door.  
   
“Dad,” she whispered.  “As soon as he opens the door, take his gun.”  
   
He nodded. He understood.  
   
The door burst open.  The unshaven figure stepped through.  “What do you bitches think you –“  
   
Purple-brown fog billowed around the sawn-off shotgun.  It billowed again around Danny Hebert’s hands, and he held the shotgun.  
   
“John Brady!” snapped Miss Militia.  “You are under arrest!”  
   
The assault rifle changed subtly, and she fired, even before he was able to respond. A tranquilliser dart stuck out of his neck.  He reached up, pulled it out, then slumped to the ground.  
   
“Nice disarm,” she said, rising to her feet and taking the shotgun from Danny’s unresisting hands.  
   
“Uh, thanks,” said Danny.  “It was Taylor’s idea.”  He raised an eyebrow at the recumbent John Brady.  “Aren’t you supposed to give them a chance to surrender?”  
   
She snorted.  “This lowlife?  He’s lucky I used a  _dart.”_  
   
The older girl tugged at Taylor’s sleeve.  “Can we go home now?” she asked, her voice full of hope and dread; hope for a positive answer, dread for a negative.  
   
Taylor grinned.  “Sure you can.”  She turned to Miss Militia.  “Just by the way, we’re in a town called Cordova, in Alabama.”  Turning back to the girl, she said, “All I need is your parents’ names.”  
   
***  
   
John Brady was delivered, unconscious, to the Cordova police station.  Miss Militia went with him, to give a statement to the police.  Three families had joyous reunions with their lost children; they promised to contact the police at once.  
   
Miss Militia loitered in the alleyway behind the police station; only the faintest shift in air heralded the arrival of Taylor and Danny.  
   
“It does make meeting up much easier,” she commented with a smile, taking Danny’s hand. “Let’s go.”  
   
***  
   
Director Piggot looked up as the smoke billowed once more, then died away. “I’ve just dealt with a phone call from a place called Cordova, in Alabama,” she commented.  “Was that you?”  
   
Miss Militia nodded.  “A dirtbag who had three kids chained up in his cellar.”  She turned a warm look on Taylor and Danny.  “I haven’t the words.”  
   
“Very well,” said Director Piggot.  “I do.” She looked at Taylor and Danny. “I am formally inviting you to join the Protectorate; Taylor to be joining the Wards until her eighteenth birthday.  Do you accept?”  
   
Taylor looked at Danny, who looked back at him.  They didn’t need the look.  Each already knew what the other was thinking.  
   
Danny nodded in eerie unison with Taylor.  “Thank you,” he said.  
   
“We accept,” she added.  
   
Miss Militia smiled behind her scarf.  “No,” she said.  “Thank  _you.”_  
   
Taylor hugged Danny, who reciprocated.  “Ready to be a superhero, kiddo?” he asked with a grin.  
   
“You bet,” she agreed.


	10. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor has nightmares, and is comforted by Danny. They choose Pathfinder and Compass Rose as their hero names.

Danny sat opposite Taylor as they ate dinner that night. "I think we did good today, kiddo," he said.  
   
She smiled at him.  "I think so, too.". Reaching across the table, she grasped his hand.  "I love you, Dad."  
   
He returned her smile.  "I love you too, Taylor."  
   
"Thanks for getting me out of that locker."  
   
He squeezed her hand gently. "Anytime, kiddo.  Anytime at all."  
   
They stood up simultaneously, and moved into a hug.   
   
Danny Hebert held his daughter, his lover, and the person whom he valued most of all in the world.  He would die for her; he nearly had, today, and he would do the same again, without hesitation.  He knew that she loved him, and needed him, desperately, and so he would stand by her.  
   
Taylor Hebert held her father, her lover, and the person whom she valued most of all in the world.  Hers was a battered and scarred soul, but he had proven beyond any doubt that his love for her was unbending, unbreakable.  He would stand by her forever, and thus she loved him just as strongly as he did her.  
   
“Taylor ...” he began.  
   
“Dad ...” she began, at the exact same moment.    
   
They shared a self-conscious chuckle.  
   
“You first,” she said, snuggling into the embrace.  
   
He cleared his throat. “I was just thinking, it’s been a really long day, and we’ve done a lot, and I’m just a bit worn out ...”  
   
“... so you just wanted to cuddle, tonight?” she finished.  
   
“Well, yeah,” he agreed. He pulled back a little, to look down at her.  “Is that all right, kiddo?”  
   
She smiled up at him, and kissed him gently on the lips.  “I was about to say the very same thing, Dad,” she said, and not only was it true, but he also knew it to be so.  She laid her head on his chest again.  “I’ve been through so much today, I just need to be able to relax and get my head together.  But I still want to sleep with you.  I think I might need a hug or two, tonight.”  
   
He held her close.  “I think I can oblige you with that, Taylor,” he agreed.  He kissed her on top of her head, and then eased out of the hug.  “In the meantime, we have dishes to do.”  
   
They washed up; a couple of experiments proved that he could not teleport grime off the dishes, nor the dishes away from the grime.  Apparently some things never changed.  So the dishes were done the old-fashioned way, and dried the same old way, and put away in the cupboard.  
   
Danny felt a warm glow inside as his daughter scrubbed away at a stubborn stain.  With all that had changed in their lives, with their new relationship, with their powers, with everything that had happened, they could still have a quiet domestic moment like this, as if nothing had changed at all. It gave him hope for the future.  
   
She looked up at him and smiled; of course, with their new level of empathic connection, she had felt his happiness and divined the meaning of it.  
   
“I know, Dad,” she said softly. “I like it too.”  
   
They hugged again, almost as father and daughter once more, holding each other, a rock in a storm, an anchor in a gale.  Stability amid chaos.  
   
***  
   
When she came to bed, she wore the singlet top and panties that she had worn the first night they had made love.  She smiled as he recognised it. “It’s not a message for you to rip it off me and have your wicked way with my sexy, sexy body,” she said as she lay down alongside him.  “Although I probably would not resist all that much if you did,” she added with a giggle.  “It’s just that this is my most comfortable sleepwear.”  
   
“The thought never crossed my mind,” he stated piously; which was a lie, and both of them knew it was a lie, but she didn’t call him on it.  
   
They settled down to sleep; she snuggled back against him and he put his arms around her, spoon-fashion. If one hand was cupping a breast, and the other her sex, and if she felt a half-hard penis prodding her backside every now and again, she made no mention.  Tired out or not, they were still extremely attracted to one another, and such things were more sweet and endearing – in her opinion – than annoying.  
   
He felt her body press back against his, and he could control his autonomic reaction no more than he could the first time that had happened.  But she made no protest, merely snuggled her warm buttocks back a little more firmly against his almost-hard erection, and let his hands find their natural places.  
   
They conversed for a little while like that, as sleep gradually overtook them.  They were warm, comfortable, loved and safe.  It was easy to drift off to sleep.  
   
***  
   
Taylor was in the locker. It was closing in on her.  The unimaginably foul muck was rising around her, it was going to suffocate her, she couldn’t get out, she couldn’t find her phone, she couldn’t call Dad.  The level of the garbage rose to her chin.  
   
She screamed.  
   
***  
   
Danny came awake as Taylor thrashed and screamed in his arms.  He tried to hold her, tried to gently restrain her, as she whipped around, and writhed, and flailed blindly.  She was screaming his name, over and over.  He heard her begin to vomit, and teleported them both to the bathroom.  
   
Vomit spattered the tiles before he was able to get her head over the toilet, holding her hair out of the way.  
   
She threw up convulsively, her stomach muscles as hard as iron, voiding herself of everything she had eaten that day, since the locker.  
   
He held her gently, speaking soothingly, reminding her that she was all right, that it was all good, she was out of the locker, he was there, he was never going to leave her alone ever again.  
   
Gradually, she quieted down, stopped vomiting.  Broke into great racking sobs that shook her skinny frame.  He held her, soothed her.  She cried on his shoulder.  
   
He got her up, cleaned her up, wiped up the vomitus, flushed the toilet.  Held her while she shivered.  
   
“I’m sorry,”  she whimpered, holding him tightly.  “I’m such a burden.”  
   
“Never,” he told her firmly, lifting her chin.  Vomit breath or no, he kissed her firmly on the lips.   “I love you, and you have been badly hurt.  We just need to work through this.”  
   
She rinsed her mouth out; he did the same.  She giggled self-consciously; he grinned.  
   
“Let’s get back to bed,” he said.  “We still need our sleep.”  
   
***  
   
The locker was full of bugs that had come to feed on the horrible garbage, but there were more bugs than garbage.  They crawled all over Taylor as she tried to get out of the locker, up her nostrils, into her mouth, into her eyes, into her ears.  To her horror, she felt them burrowing into her underwear, crawling between her buttocks, forcing their way into her anus, crawling between her labia into her vagina, slithering up into her womb where they would lay their eggs ...  
   
She could not open her mouth, because the bugs wanted to crawl in.  But she had to if she wanted to scream.   
   
She screamed, choked as the bugs climbed down her throat, screamed again.  
   
***  
   
Danny came awake once more, as Taylor screamed and thrashed in his arms.  He held her close, murmuring gently, caressing her hair, telling her that she was all right.  This time she retched, but nothing came up; he took her to the bathroom anyway. Kneeling on the white tiles, he embraced her, and she clung to him, sobbing piteously.  
   
Helping her up, he took her to the kitchen and got her a glass of cold water, and had one himself. Then he took them both back to bed.  
   
***  
   
The third nightmare did not even wake Taylor up; she moaned and moved around for a bit in his arms, and he just had to hold her, murmuring soothingly into her ear, until she calmed down and dropped back to sleep proper.  
   
He sighed and lay there for a long time before he finally managed to get back to sleep himself.  
   
***  
   
In the morning, he called in sick.  The family emergency, he said, was ongoing, and he had to take care of Taylor.  Then he went back to bed.  
   
Taylor was still asleep when he got there, but she started to wake up when he climbed back in with her. She opened her eyes with a gasp and turned to him.  “Oh, thank god, Dad,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.  “I thought you’d gone somewhere.”  
   
“Nowhere without you, kiddo,” he said gently, holding her in his arms.  “Nowhere without you.”  
   
She made a contented noise and snuggled up to him.  “I love you, Dad,” she murmured, holding him close.  “Was I much trouble, last night?  I seem to recall waking up a few times.”  
   
“Just a bit,” he admitted. “But it’s all right.  You went through something no-one should ever have to go through, and it’s only natural that there’d be a bit of fallout from that. And I’m here for you anytime, you know that.”  
   
He felt hot tears slide from her eyes on to his chest.  “Hey now, what’s up?” he asked, caressing her hair.  
   
“You’re so good to me, Dad,” she whispered.  “I don’t deserve it.”  
   
“You’re my daughter,” he told her bluntly.  “If I say you deserve it, you deserve it.”  
   
She smiled wanly, and rested her head on his chest once more.  
   
***  
   
Alan Barnes opened the door to find two police officers standing there, along with a woman in civilian clothes.  
   
“May I help you?” he asked.  
   
The police officers looked at him.  “Does Emma Barnes live at this address?” the senior one asked.  
   
“Yes, she does,” replied Alan. “I’m her father.  Why do you want to see her?”  
   
 “We would like her to come down to the station for questioning, sir.”  
   
Alan froze.  “Why – what’s she done?”  
   
“You may have heard of an incident where a student at her school was shut into a locker, yesterday?” asked the police officer.  “We have reason to believe that she was complicit in that incident.”  
   
The lady in civilian clothes stepped forward.  “I’m Dorothy Gillman, from Child Services,” she said.  “I’m here to ensure that her rights are not abrogated while she is being questioned.”  
   
Somehow, that did not make Alan feel any better.  
   
***  
   
Across town, a very similar scene was playing out on the doorstep of Madison Clements.  
   
***  
   
Taylor and Danny dozed, woke, talked, dozed again, talked again.  It was a thoroughly relaxing time.  But around about ten o’clock, Danny finally roused himself.  
   
“We should be going soon,” he said.  “Otherwise they’ll be wondering where we’ve gotten to.”  
   
Taylor sat up.  “Yeah, I suppose,” she said.  “I was really enjoying this, but I guess we should get up.”  Her eyes were bright, her expression playful.  “Shower?”  
   
He smiled and reached for her. “Let’s work up a sweat first.”  
   
They made love slowly and tenderly, Danny sliding his penis in and out of Taylor’s willing slippery vagina. She clung to him and kissed him, moaning with the pleasure that he caused her.  He felt it also, felt himself beginning to swell inside her.  
   
She came three or four times before he hunched his back, drove himself deep inside her, and ejaculated; she felt the blistering orgasm, and it raised her own pleasure exponentially. The feedback from this left them both panting and shattered on the bed.  Taylor groaned as Danny rolled off of her, his penis sliding wetly out of her.  
   
“Holy shit, Dad, is this just going to get better and better every time we do it?”  
   
“I have no idea,” he panted, taking her in his arms and holding her close.  “But they say that powers do improve if you work at them.”  
   
She put her arms around him, enjoying the feeling of his softening penis lying between her thighs. “What, you’re saying that having good sex is one of the powers we share?”  
   
He chuckled.  “Sounds as good an explanation as any.”  
   
“Wow,” she said.  “I think our shower had better be just a shower. I don’t know if I could survive something like that twice in a row.”  
   
He concurred; the shower was just a shower, albeit with plenty of kissing and caressing.  
   
Afterward, they had a late breakfast, then dressed; he teleported them to the PRT base.  
   
***  
   
Armsmaster turned the bag over in his hands, examining the badly damaged musical instrument within.  "Yes," he decided.  "I can fix this."  
   
"If you can," said Danny Hebert, "we would greatly appreciate it."  
   
"If Armsmaster says he can do this," said Director Piggot, "he can do it.". She looked at Danny and Taylor. "Not to open old wounds," she said, "but didn't you say you had evidence against Shadow Stalker and her two accomplices?"  
   
Danny looked at Taylor, who groaned and put her hand to her forehead.  "Would you believe, in all the excitement, I forgot them?"  
   
She shared a glance, and a moment of silent, deadpan, shared amusement, with her father.  They both knew exactly what she meant by 'excitement'.  Clasping his hand, she asked, "Dad, could you get them for me?"  
   
This time, only Armsmaster was surprised when the purple-brown smoke billowed around Danny's hand, then dissipated to leave him holding a stack of papers.  He handed them over to the Director, who promptly handed them on to Armsmaster. "See how she reacts to these, will you?" she asked.  
   
The armoured hero smiled grimly, noting the thickness of the stack.  "Will do, ma'am," he replied.  He looked at Danny with some respect.  "That's a very useful trick, sir."  
   
Danny cleared his throat self-consciously. "If I'm going to be in the Protectorate, then you'll be my boss.   _I'll_ be calling  _you_  'sir'."  
   
Armsmaster nodded.  "That's a very good point.". He rose.  "I'll just take these down to the prisoner now."  
   
As the door to the conference room closed behind him, Miss Militia looked at Taylor and Danny.  "I’m guessing you've been discussing it," she said, "so have you decided what names you will be using?"  
   
Taylor grinned.  "At first we liked the idea of calling ourselves 'Search and Rescue', but then we decided not to be quite so derivative.  So I'm going to be Compass Rose."  
   
Danny nodded.  "And I was thinking of going with either Pathfinder or Trailblazer."  
   
Miss Militia nodded.  "Very strong names.  I must say, I prefer Pathfinder over Trailblazer, though.  It has an old-world military ring to it.  World War Two, perhaps?"  
   
"Actually, yes," confirmed Director Piggot. They looked at her.  "My father was a war buff," she continued, unfazed.  "Pathfinder squadrons consisted of light fighter-bombers, usually Mosquitos, flying out ahead of the heavies and dropping flares to mark the target."  
   
There was silence for a moment, as the others considered this.  
   
"That can't have been safe," observed Taylor, taking hold of her father's hand.  
   
Piggot shook her head.  "It wasn't.  But we are getting away from the point.  You have chosen the names Compass Rose and Pathfinder.  Costume ideas?"  
   
Danny rubbed his chin.  "Compasses are old-school, and as you say, so is the idea of the Pathfinder.  So, an old-fashioned look.  Sepia tones.  Brown and cream."  
   
Miss Militia nodded.  "So far, so good.  Accessories?"  
   
Taylor spoke up.  "I'd like an actual picture of a compass rose on my costume. One of the really gorgeous ones, with scrollwork.  Maybe tilted a bit, so it looks elliptical.  And goggles.  I'll need goggles, with corrective lenses.". She paused. "Actually, Dad, I've been meaning to ask you.  Why aren't you wearing _your_  glasses?"  
   
Danny blinked.  "Uh, Panacea gave me corrective treatment," he confessed. "I kind of forgot about it, with everything that was happening."  
   
"Ah," she sighed. "And she didn't do it for me because she didn't know I was a cape."  
   
"We can ask her to come back," offered Director Piggot.  
   
"It might not work," observed Miss Militia. "Panacea is very big on her independence.  She doesn't do individual requests.". She looked up from the pad she had been sketching on. "How does this look?"  
   
The sketches looked remarkably like target outlines that had been filled in with details after the fact.  Both costumes evoked the 'aviator' look without actually being explicit about it.  Danny's had knee-high boots, a long coat and a light helmet, looking vaguely military. The heavy goggles had rectangular lenses.  "We can also put something across your lower face if you want," she said.  
   
He nodded and passed the pad along to Taylor.  Her costume had the compass rose on the chest, a light coat, high boots like Danny's and a light helmet with round-lensed goggles.  "We can build in a heads-up display, to feed you information on things or people," Miss Militia added.  
   
"What do you think, kiddo?" asked Danny.  
   
Taylor nodded.  "I like it.  The basic concept, anyway.  We might need to adjust things a little during fitting.". She tapped the coat her image was wearing, then held up her own rather skinny wrist.  "We don't want my hands looking like pipe-cleaners coming out of those sleeves.". She cleared her throat. "And would it be possible to have just a little, uh, padding, here and there?"  She looked defiantly around the room.  "So I don't look, you know, twelve?"  
   
Miss Militia coughed.  Danny took a studied interest in the ceiling acoustic tiles. Director Piggot merely looked deadpan, and made a note.    
   
"I'm sure that will be possible," she murmured.  
   
“The costumes will be ready in about two days,” said Miss Militia.  “In the meantime, it would probably be best if you went about your normal routines.”  
   
“Which reminds me,” said Danny. “Did I ... out ... myself, yesterday, with all my teleporting around?”  
   
“Actually,” said Miss Militia, “it’s amazing what people miss if they don’t compare notes.  We have spoken to the principal at Winslow, and secured her silence, and that of her staff.  Virtually no-one else is aware of your new capabilities.”  
   
“Uh ... as for going to school ...” said Taylor.  “I’m not sure ...”  
   
Miss Militia positively grinned behind her scarf.  “Where are Emma and Madison now?”  
   
Taylor blinked.  “Uh, in the police station.  Not looking happy.”  She blinked again.  “And Mr Barnes is there too.  He looks like he’s been shouting a lot, and not getting anywhere.”  
   
Miss Militia nodded. “And whatever Sophia can confirm from the papers you gave us will be added to their charge sheets when they do get arrested.  Believe me when I say that they are not walking away from this one.”  There was the sound of considerable satisfaction in her voice.  
   
Taylor grinned. “Somehow, I’m really good with that.”  
   
Director Piggot nodded. “I’m not surprised.”  She paused.  “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”  
   
“Well,” said Danny, “I’ve called in sick, and Taylor isn’t expected at school, so we could have a quiet day in ...”  His gaze met Taylor’s.   _Read: screw like rabid weasels._   “... or, we could have a day out and about.”  
   
“Or,” offered Taylor, “do you have a spare computer that I can pull up those missing-persons lists on?”  
   
Director Piggot’s gaze met that of Miss Militia.  “I do believe we just might,” agreed Miss Militia.  
   
“While we’re getting that set up,” added the Director, “would you be able to tell me the status of Jack Slash?”  
   
Taylor breathed deeply, and took her father’s hand.  
   
“He’s injured, hiding out in a town called Burwell, to the southeast of where he was yesterday,” she reported.  “Shrapnel wounds and some pretty bad burns.  Four sixty-three South Eighth Avenue.”  She paused. “Crawler's still in the area, Shatterbird’s flying southwest, and I can’t get a read on Siberian at all.  It’s like she doesn’t exist.”  She frowned.  “That’s really weird ... and possibly really bad.  How did she go invisible to my power between one day and the next?”  
   
 Miss Militia shrugged.  “You’ve only just recently gotten your powers,” she said.  “Maybe you’re still working them out.”  
   
Taylor shrugged dubiously. “Okay, I guess.”  She looked  at Director Piggot.  “The rest are in custody?”  
   
“Or dead,” replied the Director bluntly.  “But from retrieved remains, only the four got away.”  She smiled thinly.  “Thank you for the information about Jack Slash.”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “You’re welcome.”  
   
Miss Militia stood up. “Come on,” she said.  “Let’s get you set up for finding missing persons.”  
   
Taylor got up along with Danny. Hand in hand, they followed her out the door.  
 


	11. Out of the Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pathfinder and Compass Rose get their new costumes, and meet the Wards, but someone figures out their darkest secret ...

Director Piggot tapped the pointer on the electronic board.  “Thanks to Compass Rose, we now have a good lead on the bases for every single prominent supervillain gang in the city,” she announced.  “We’ve also supplied the Boston Protectorate team with the location of Accord’s base, and the location of his office within that building.  Likewise, the Adepts in New York.”  
   
Miss Militia raised her hand.  “Isn’t this edging very close to the unwritten rule about not outing capes?” she asked.  
   
Director Piggot shook her head.  “Not if we don’t use it until the villain group in question goes over the line themselves.”  
   
Armsmaster looked up. “Define ‘over the line’.”  
   
Piggot snorted.  “Use your head.  Specifically going after civilians.  Hurting innocents randomly.  Hitting surrendered capes when they’re down.  Kidnapping women and kids.  Murder. Rape.  It’s not hard to figure out where the line is.”  
   
“Not robbery then?” asked Armsmaster.  “Assault? Drug dealing?”  
   
“Well, of course you’re supposed to try to  _stop_  them from basic crimes like that,” Director Piggot explained.  “And if they deal drugs to kids, certainly.  But everyday crimes aren’t heinous enough to warrant kicking in the door to a villain’s base.  If we start playing hardball, they start playing hardball.  And there’s more of them than there are of us.”    
   
She took a deep breath. “Besides, right now, Compass Rose is the most valuable secret weapon we have.  Bar none.  They don’t know we have her, and even when she goes public, they won’t know her full capabilities.  We’ll put it out that she can locate small items within a reasonable radius, say a mile. Not people.  And that she needs an hour or so to ‘attune’ herself to the item. That’ll make her seem harmless enough.”  
   
“And Pathfinder?” asked Miss Militia.  
   
“We keep the full capability of his power under wraps as well.  We do  _not_  let anyone know of their close connection, either familial or power-wise,” declared the Director.  “Too much chance of someone realising who they are.  Also, hostage situations are a distinct possibility, then. No, they’ll just be two people with similar costumes, whose powers work well together.”  
   
“How is she going on the missing-persons front?” asked Armsmaster.  “And how are you explaining that away, anyway?”  
   
Director Piggot smiled thinly.  “She’s cleared seventy-five percent of all the current outstanding missing-persons cases in the continental United States.  The ones who are in a good situation, she’s leaving for later.  Only the ones who are in danger are being passed on for action. And we’re notifying the next of kin for those who are deceased.”  She glanced at Armsmaster.  “We’re telling people that we’ve engaged the services of a high-powered precog for a limited time, as a publicity thing.  They seem to be buying it.”  
   
She powered down the board, and extracted the memory stick.  “No-one speaks about this.  But if and when it’s needed ... we’ve got it.”  
   
***  
   
Taylor bundled her hair up and secured it, then lowered the helmet over her head and strapped it into place.  The goggles fitted into place over her eyes; even as old-fashioned as they appeared, with fittings that looked like leather and brass, they corrected her vision flawlessly, giving her more peripheral vision than was immediately apparent.  
   
She shrugged her shoulders inside the light coat, moving around to ensure that the costume sat well. Looking down, she admired the in-perspective image of the compass rose on her chest, which was itself a little more prominent than she was used to.  The padding was discreet, but added inches where they were needed.  More padding gave her actual hips, so that she went from skinny and gawky to shapely and slender.  
   
“How are the boots?” asked Miss Militia, breaking into her reverie.  
   
Taylor stamped her feet in them a couple of times.  “Comfortable,” she said.  “I like them.”  She admired herself in the mirror,  the brown and cream tones blending into one another.  “Is this what they call retro?” she asked.  
   
“I think so,” agreed Miss Militia.  “It suits you.”  
   
Taylor grinned at the older hero.  “Thanks,” she said. “Let’s go see how Dad’s getting on.” She already knew; she could see him in her mind’s eye.  But they didn’t need to know that.  
   
***  
   
Danny saw a stranger walk out with Miss Militia, wearing his daughter’s costume.  Behind the leather-look mask that hid his lower face, he frankly gaped.  Her costume concealed lifts in her boots, making her a few inches taller.  The padding – he had been told it was silicone inserts, that would seem realistic even to touch – made her seem more mature, more graceful.  He could easily believe her to be seventeen now, instead of fifteen.  
   
Taylor looked at the tall, commanding stranger alongside Armsmaster.  His helmet had a suggestion of a peak that evoked the idea of a military cap; the heavy, square-framed goggles were tinted and the mask below gave the impression of a strong jaw.  He looked mysterious, dashing, dangerous.  
   
His long coat swept behind him like a cape as he moved to meet her.  In black or dark grey, he would have looked sinister, even evil. As it was, the cream lining of the coat made him look lighter, friendlier.  He held out his hand; they both wore heavy-looking gloves, but with much finer material on the palm and underside of the fingers, so that they could still make tactile contact while wearing them.  
   
She clasped his hand; they felt their minds click into full contact.  She knew, then, just how much he wanted her, seeing her in this costume. She wasn’t surprised; seeing her father in his full costume made her itch to be alone with him, so that he could have his wicked way with her.  
   
“Compass Rose,” said Danny, the mask making his voice a little more resonant, a little deeper.  
   
“Pathfinder,” she responded.  They shook.  “It will be good to be working with you.”  
   
“Likewise,” he replied, with a grin inside his mask.   _I can’t wait to get you home._  
   
Even though she couldn’t see his grin, she knew it was there, and she returned it in kind.   _Me too._  
   
Miss Militia walked around them, eyeing them up and down.  “I think you two look good together,” she observed.  “The visual effect is ... striking.”  
   
Armsmaster nodded. “They don’t  _look_  like father and daughter.  Perhaps brother and sister, even.”  
   
 _Or husband and wife,_  thought Taylor wistfully.  She glanced at her father; he looked back at her impassively.  But she was sure he had just had that very same thought.  
   
“Equal partners, anyway,” Miss Militia agreed.  She turned to the pair.  “Do you know where to take us?”  
   
Taylor’s eyes unfocused for just a moment; she picked a Ward at random.   _Clockblocker_.  The image unfolded in her mind.  She could see him, chatting with blurry figures.  She knew exactly where.  And, through their link, so did Danny.  
   
“Yes,” he replied, about a second after the question had been asked.  
   
Miss Militia laid a hand on Taylor’s shoulder; Armsmaster repeated the gesture with Danny.  Miss Militia grinned.  “Take us out, Number One,” she said.  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed around them.  When it dissipated, they were gone.  
   
***  
   
Three feet to Clockblocker’s left, purple-brown smoke billowed out of nowhere, then faded away, to leave four people standing there.  
   
“Christ!” he blurted, and dropped his drink.  
   
It puffed into smoke halfway to the floor, and reappeared in the hand of the tall masked figure standing beside Armsmaster.  Danny stepped forward and handed it back to the white-clad Ward.  “You dropped this,” he said, his voice resonant inside his mask.  
   
Dennis accepted the drink. “Ah ... thanks?” he said.  The tall figure bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.  
   
Taylor squeezed her father’s hand in amused reproval.   _Showoff,_  she thought.  
   
He picked up her amusement, and squeezed back.   _And?_  
   
It had been a very impressive entrance; all eyes were on them.  Armsmaster stepped forward and raised his hands.  “Everyone!” he called out.  “We would like you to meet Pathfinder and Compass Rose!  Pathfinder is joining the Protectorate, and Compass Rose is joining the Wards!”  
   
A tall youth moved toward them.  He wasn’t masked; his features were Hispanic, and his long black hair was tied back.  “Hi, Compass Rose,” he said, offering his hand.  “I’m Aegis.”  He grinned, his teeth very white against his swarthy skin.  “But you can call me Carlos.”  
   
Taylor glanced at Danny and got a fractional nod in return, then unclipped her helmet and lifted it off. She shook her hair out and let it fall free.  “Hi, Carlos,” she said, shaking his hand.  “I’m Taylor.”  
   
“Come on,” said Aegis. “I’ll introduce you to the gang.” He led her away, leaving Danny standing with Miss Militia and Armsmaster, and Clockblocker watching her retreating rear-view.  
   
 _Crap_ , thought Dennis.   _Another hot chick joins the team, and I have to go make an idiot out of myself._  
   
And then he became aware of Pathfinder leaning down beside him.  
   
“Just so you know,” said Danny, just loudly enough for the teen hero to hear him, “if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking about her ... she’s my daughter.”  
   
Clockblocker froze, almost as if he had used his own power on himself.  Danny patted him on the shoulder.   _“Good_  lad.”  
   
Then he moved off with the other two, to meet the other members of the Protectorate, leaving Clockblocker standing alone.  
   
“Hey!” said Vista. “Come and meet the new girl! She’s cool!”  She grabbed him by the arm and tugged him along; he had not the spirit to resist.  
   
***  
   
“So you’re the reason Shadow Stalker’s no longer with us?” asked Kid Win.  Helmet off, he had introduced himself as Chris, and had pleasant features and brown hair.  His question was curious rather than accusative.  
   
“Uh, yeah,” said Taylor. “I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say, but ... she did something really bad.  And it happened to me.  And Dad had to come and get me out of it.  When Dad triggered ...”  
   
“Wait, wait,” said Gallant. Unmasked, he had told her to call him Dean.  “Pathfinder’s your  _dad?”_  
   
Taylor grinned. “Yeah.  He got his powers the same time I got mine.  Cool, huh?”  She was starting to relax and enjoy this.    
   
Vista nodded.  “It would be great to always have someone at home you can talk to about having powers.”  She rolled her eyes.  “With my family, it’s always ‘have you tried  _not_  having powers?  Why can’t you be normal?’”  
   
Taylor giggled. “Yeah, it is really nice.  Not having to pretend.  No secrets.  No awkwardness.”  She looked over toward him.  
   
Danny felt her attention and looked toward her; he’d removed his helmet and held it under his arm. He felt her love and desire toward him, and returned it in full measure.  
   
Gallant blinked.   _I did not just see what I thought I saw._  
   
“Now, I know you stop time,” said Taylor to Clockblocker, “but I’m still a bit unsure on what  _you_  do,” she added to Vista.  
   
Vista grinned.  “I can stretch or squeeze space, so it might take you all day to cross this room, or make it in a single step.”  
   
Taylor’s eyes widened. “That’s an  _awesome_  power.”  
   
Vista nodded.  “So what do you do?”  
   
Taylor grinned.  “I locate stuff.”  
   
“Yeah?” asked Browbeat. “Like what?”  
   
Taylor shrugged. “Basically, anything I’ve got enough details on to make it unique.  I get a mental image of it, and I know its exact location.”  
   
“Like ...  _anything?”_  said Kid Win.  
   
Taylor shrugged again. “Try me.”  
   
Carlos spoke up.  “My mother lost her favourite necklace last week. She doesn’t know where it’s got to.”  
   
“I’m going to need more details than that,” Taylor told him.  
   
“Silver and turquoise,” Carlos said.  “Actually, hold on, I got a photo of it on my phone somewhere.”  He flicked through pictures until he found one, and Taylor looked at it.  
   
Her eyes went unfocused for a moment.  “Got it,” she said.  “It’s in a pawn shop, downtown.”  She gave him the address.  “Currently under the counter.  It hasn’t been put on display yet.”  
   
He stared at her. “You .. got all that, just from the photo?” he asked.  
   
She nodded.  “It’s what I do,” she said.  “Actually, if you want, we could get it back for you.”  
   
“We?” he asked.  
   
“Me and Dad,” she clarified.  
   
He frowned.  “Go there and ask for it back, you mean?”  
   
She grinned.  “Not exactly.”  She didn’t even look his way, but purple-brown smoke billowed beside her, and her father was standing there.  
   
“You wanted me, Taylor?” he asked.  
   
Everyone around her stepped back with varying shock and surprise on their features.  Vista looked delighted.  “Oh, that was  _awesome!”_  she said.   
   
Taylor took her father’s hand.  “Stolen property,” she said. “Get it back?”  
   
He held out his free hand. A puff of smoke later, and the necklace lay coiled up in it.  Aegis stared at it, hypnotised.  Taylor picked it up and handed it to him.  “Tell your mom hi from me,” she said with a smile.  
   
He cradled it in his hands. Everyone was goggling at Taylor and Danny.  Taylor looked around, shrugged slightly.  “What?” she asked.  
   
Danny grinned, gave her a one-armed hug, and said, “I’ll get back to the adults now.  Call me if you need me.”  And then he disappeared in his characteristic billow of smoke.  
   
Vista squealed and hugged Taylor.  “That was  _fantastic!”_  she exulted.  “Can you and your dad do that  _all_  the time?”  
   
Taylor grinned and hugged her back.  “Mostly, yeah,” she said.  
   
Browbeat turned to Clockblocker.  “Do you believe what you just saw?”  
   
Clockblocker shrugged. “I dunno.  What did you just see?”  
   
Kid Win clapped Taylor on the shoulder.  “Well done. Welcome to the team.”  
   
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.  “Thanks, Chris.  It’s nice to have new friends.”  
   
He grinned at her. “Likewise, Taylor.  Is your dad going to be working with us a lot?”  
   
“Actually,” said Taylor, “I’ll probably be working with him a lot.  We, uh, work well together.”  
   
“Except when you’re doing monitor duty and stuff,” said Clockblocker.  
   
“Maybe even then,” said Taylor.  “Miss Militia says we’re a special case.”  
   
“Excuse me,” said Gallant. “I just gotta go do something.” He moved off toward where Armsmaster was standing alone, tapping away at a small pad set into the arm of his suit.  
   
***  
   
“Taylor seems to be getting along well with the others,” observed Miss Militia.  
   
Danny nodded.  “She’s needed friends of her own age for the longest time.  At her school ... she was bullied a lot.  Which, in a roundabout way, is why we’re here today.”  
   
She gave him a sympathetic look.  “I know,” she said.  She put her hand on his arm.  “If you ever need someone to talk to ...”  
   
He looked at her, slightly surprised.  “I, uh, guess, yeah, sometime I might do that,” he said.  
   
The moment was interrupted when Assault slapped Danny on the shoulder.  “So, Pathfinder, is it?”  
   
“Call me Danny,” he said with a grin.  
   
“Danny, right.” Assault offered his hand. “Ethan.  It’s good to see another family man on the team.  And you, what, teleport?”  
   
Danny nodded.  “I haven’t figured out all the tricks I can do with it, but Taylor’s helping me out with that.  She’s very imaginative like that.”   _And in other ways,_  his inner voice supplied.  
   
“I’m sure that’ll be a very useful addition to the team,” said Battery.  “Can you teleport other people?  Oh wait,” she said immediately.  “You arrived with Compass Rose, Armsmaster and Miss Militia. Sorry.”  
   
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Normally, one other person.  But when Taylor’s with me, my capacity improves a lot.”  
   
“How much is a lot?” asked Dauntless curiously.  
   
Danny shrugged. “Haven’t hit a limit yet.”  
   
Triumph shared a glance with Assault.  “We are gonna  _have_  to test that out,” declared Assault.  
   
Danny grinned.  “Any time.”  
   
***  
   
“Sir,” said Gallant. “I need to speak with you immediately.”  
   
Armsmaster looked up from where he was calibrating his left gauntlet.  “Can it wait?”  
   
Gallant shook his head. “I ... no, I don’t think so.  I think it’s important.”  
   
Armsmaster frowned, locked down what he had been doing, and closed the panel.  “So talk.”  
   
Gallant looked around at the rest of the people in the room.  “I think we need more privacy.  And Director Piggot needs to hear this as well.”  
   
Armsmasteer nodded. “You think this is serious.  All right, we’ll treat this as serious.”  He moved off; Gallant followed him.  “Is this about Compass Rose and Pathfinder?”  
   
“I’d really rather wait till we were in private,” Gallant said.   _I hate myself for doing this, but I really, really think someone needs to know about this._  
   
“Understood,” said Armsmaster.  Inside his helmet, he activated his comm, and sent a call through to Director Piggot.  
   
***  
   
They stood in a closed conference room; Gallant faced Armsmaster and Director Piggot.  
   
“Okay,” said the Director. “Now, what’s so important that you had to drag me away from my duties?”  
   
Gallant swallowed. “I see emotions; you know this.” He could certainly see the irritation hovering over Armsmaster, and the growing anger that Piggot was only just holding in check.  
   
“Yes,” said Armsmaster. “Get to the point.”  
   
“Taylor and her father love each other,” blurted Gallant, and hated himself all the more for saying it like that.  
   
Armsmaster looked at Piggot; she looked back.  Both shrugged.  “And so?” asked the Director.  
   
“No,” he said.  “I mean, really  _love_  each other.”  
   
Armsmaster tilted his head. “I don’t get you,” he said.  
   
“Wait,” said the Director. “Do you mean ...  _love._   As in sex?”  
   
Gallant nodded. There was sweat on his brow.  
   
“As in ... they’re in a  _sexual relationship?”_  said Armsmaster slowly.  
   
Again, Gallant nodded. “Unless I’m reading the vibes all wrong, whenever they look at each other, it’s like when Assault and Battery are about ready to drag each other off to their room.”  
   
“Oh, christ almighty,” muttered Director Piggot.  She put her hand over her eyes.  “I knew it was too good to be true.  I just  _knew_  it.”  
   
“How old  _is_  she?” asked Armsmaster.  
   
“Fifteen,” replied the Director flatly.  Gallant felt sick.   _That’s so against the law, it’s not funny._  
   
“Right,” said the Director. She turned to Gallant.  “Thank you for this information.  Does anyone else apart from us three know of it?”  
   
Gallant shrugged. “Apart from Taylor and her dad?” he ventured, trying to achieve a light tone.  He wilted at the look she gave him.  “Uh, no-one that I know of.”  
   
“Good,” she said. “See that it stays that way. We’re going to have to do something about this.”  
   
Armsmaster looked at her. “What, exactly?  What she’s done so far, what she’s continuing to do ...”  
   
“I know, I know!” she snapped.  “After this party is over, have Miss Militia meet me, yourself, Aegis, and the Heberts in my office. We’re going to have this out.” She turned to Gallant. “You.  Tell.  Nobody. Is that absolutely and perfectly clear?”  
   
He gulped.  “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he said.  
   
She nodded. “Dismissed,” she said.  
   
Relieved, he scuttled from the room.  
   
Behind him, Armsmaster and Piggot shared a long look.  
   
 _What **are**  we going to do?_


	12. Recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Vicky come to an understanding, Taylor and Danny face an accusation, and there is a meeting to decide their fate

"Hey Vicky, wait up!"  
   
Victoria Dallon looked over her shoulder to see her younger sister hurrying to catch up before she reached the stairs.  Reluctantly, she slowed her fast walk.  
   
"What?" she asked.  "I'm busy.  I've got to get ready to meet Dean, later."  
   
"You've been busy these last two days, Vicky," said Amy as she caught up. "Have you been avoiding me?"  
   
"No, of course not," protested Victoria.    
   
Amy looked at her steadily.    
   
"Not really," temporised Vicky.  
   
The soft brown eyes seemed to bore into her.    
   
"Only a little bit?" she said at last, in a small voice.  
   
Panacea sighed.  "Vicky, I'm the  _same person_  that I was three days ago. I've felt the way I do about you for a long time.  I'm not going to start acting differently around you, just because you know how I feel about you."  
   
"But I  _do_  know how you feel," protested Victoria.  "It changes the way I see you."  
   
"Does it change the way you  _feel_  about me?" challenged Panacea softly.  
   
"Yes! No!  Fuck,  _I_ don't know!". Victoria put her hands up, as if she were about to start pulling at her hair. "I just wish you'd never told me, that's all."  
   
"You'd rather I just kept lying to you and to myself?" pressed Amy.  
   
Victoria looked at her sister, the girl with whom she had shared a thousand triumphs, a thousand tears.  She had thought she knew Amy, knew how she felt, knew how she ticked.  A realisation struck her.  
   
 _I **do**  know her.  I just didn't know her before. Everyone changes._  
   
She looked into those soft brown eyes, and saw the echo of the pain that her sister had kept hidden for so long.  Knew that she was only seeing it now because Amy was letting her see it.  
   
 _It's called growing up.  Everyone has to grow up.  Even me._  
   
Slowly, she shook her head.  "No, Ames," she said softly.  "I wouldn't rather you kept lying."  
   
Stepping forward, she opened her arms and embraced her sister.  Unselfconscious, unafraid, uncaring.  Or rather, caring very much.   _You are my sister, and I love you, and I don't **care**  if you're attracted to me. I'll hug you if I want._  
   
Amy felt her sister's arms go around her, and she reciprocated, clinging to the person she loved and cared for most in all the world.  She felt tears come to her eyes and she sniffled.  
   
"What's the matter with you  _now?"_  
   
Amy could have laughed with glee.  This was the abrasive, sarcastic Vicky she knew and loved.  "Nothing," she lied, smiling wanly.  "I must be coming down with a cold or something."  
   
"Bullshit," said Victoria flatly.  "You don't  _get_  colds."  She eyed Amy in mild disbelief.  "You're crying.  Why are you crying?"  
   
"Because my sister, who I love more than anyone in the world, just let me hug her for the first time in three days," explained Amy.  "I'm  _happy."_  
  
Victoria shook her head.  "You're weird, is what you are.". Her gaze softened.  "But I'll try not to avoid you in future, okay?"  
   
Amy smiled widely.  "Thanks, Vicky," she said, then paused.  "Do you really mean that?"  
   
"Of course I do," replied Vicky, before she saw the playful gleam in her sister's eye.  "What are you up to?"  
   
"Nothing," Amy assured her innocently.  "I was just thinking, it's been ages since we went out and had fun together.  Go down to the Boardwalk, have dinner together, maybe catch a movie ...?"  
   
Victoria looked at her suspiciously.  "Are you trying to guilt me into a  _date?"_  
   
"No!" protested Amy.  Then she grinned.  "Well, maybe.  But it doesn't  _have_  to be a date.  It could be just a chance for two sisters to catch up, talk about things, have fun together.  Like we used to do.  Those were fun, weren't they?"  
   
Reluctantly, Victoria nodded.  "They were.". She eyed her sister.  "Would you be okay with it  _not_  being a date?". She paused.  "I'm guessing that it being a date would mean you'd want a kiss at some point."  
   
Amy nodded.  "If you don't want it to be a date, then it can be a perfectly normal day out," she assured Victoria.  "The  _last_  thing I want to do is freak you out."  
   
Vicky regarded her with a bemused air, as though she were not quite sure how she had gotten to this point in the conversation.  
   
"Okay, I'll tell you what," she said at last.  "If you're really good all the way through, and you don't grab my ass, or try to get romantic in the movies, and don't freak me out in any way, then  _maybe_  I'll let you have a kiss at the end of the night.  But only if you're good, mind."  
   
 _A fun day out, where I don't have to watch out for her making moves on me, and reward her with a kiss at the end_ , she thought.   _I can do that._  
   
She concentrated on feeling noble, and resolutely ignored the part of her that was very interested in knowing if another kiss from Amy would feel as good as the first one.  That had  _nothing_ to do with her decision; she was just being nice to her poor love-struck lesbian sister, that was all.  
   
Amy squealed and hugged her.  Vicky grinned and hugged her back.  She knew these hugs of old; this was pure Amy, for as long as she'd known her.  
   
Amy looked up at her.  "Is holding hands okay?" she asked ingenuously.  "Because we used to do that all the time, too."  
   
This was true; they had.  Vicky sighed.  "Yes, we can hold hands," she said with a fond smile.  "I won't freak out."  
   
Amy hugged her again, then let her go.  "You might want to get ready to see Dean," she said with a grin.  
   
Vicky gave her an answering grin, ruffled her hair, and went upstairs.  
   
 _Yes!_  exulted Amy.   _Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  We’re going on a date!_   She paused.  ** _Maybe_** _a date_ , she corrected herself.  But even that ‘maybe’ was cause for celebration.  
   
 _Ice cream time._  
   
***  
   
Director Piggot sat behind her desk.  Danny Hebert, holding his helmet under his arm, stood in front of the desk.  There was no chair for him, this time.  
   
To one side of the office stood Armsmaster, and beside him Aegis.  The elder hero was impassive behind his helmet; the younger one looked tense and worried.  
   
Danny tried to look as impassive as Armsmaster, but he had an idea of what was going on.   _How did they find out?_  he asked himself.  He had no answers.  
   
“Mr Hebert,” said Director Piggot, almost gently, “there have been some very startling, and very serious, accusations levelled at you, in regards to your relationship with your daughter.  We need them answered before we go any farther.”  She looked him in the eye.   _“I_  need to know what’s going on here.”  
   
Danny took a deep breath.  “If we’re going to be talking about Taylor, then she needs to be in the room.  I refuse to speak about her, good or ill, behind her back.”  
   
Before anyone could refute him, he disappeared in a billow of purple-brown smoke.  
   
***  
   
Taylor looked up as Danny appeared beside her.  “Dad?” she asked in a frightened tone.  “What’s going on?”  
   
“Director Piggot needs to ask you a question, kiddo,” he said quietly.  He took her hand, and laid his other hand on Miss Militia’s arm.  Before either could protest, they had vanished once more.  
   
***  
   
Smoke billowed, and Danny and Taylor reappeared, with Miss Militia.  “I’m back,” he said.  “Now, you have a question which concerns Taylor.  Ask her.”  
   
Director Piggot tried to look Taylor in the eye; she seemed to find it difficult. Finally, she managed to do so, and said somewhat more harshly than she intended, “Taylor, is your father having sex with you?”  
   
Aegis gasped; he obviously had not been filled in on the details.  Danny felt sorry for the lad.  
   
Taylor squared her shoulders and squeezed her father’s hand.  She didn’t need his empathic presence to know what he wanted her to say.  
   
“No,” she said clearly.  Armsmaster opened his mouth to say something, but she went on.   _“I’m_  having sex with  _him.”_  
   
Dead silence in the room.  Aegis was staring at Taylor with what seemed pain in his eyes.  
   
“No matter who initiates it,” forced out Director Piggot, “it’s still against the law –“  
   
 _“Fuck_  the law!” shouted Taylor.  “Did the law stop Sophia, or Emma, or Madison from doing any of the shit they put me through for  _eighteen fucking months_?  Did the law get me out of that fucking locker when I was screaming and puking and shitting my pants?  Did the law hold me and soothe me last night when I had nightmares so bad I was throwing up all over again?”   She had tears running down her cheeks, glaring at Director Piggot.  
   
“That’s not – “ began the Director.  
   
“The  _fuck_  it’s not!” shouted Taylor.  “You came in here expecting to condemn my Dad – a more loveable, wonderful, caring man you will never  _fucking_  meet – for molesting me, for forcing me to have sex with him!  Well, fuck you all if you think that of him!  He never did a single thing, never laid a finger on me, until just before Christmas!  And I’m  _glad_  he did! And you should be glad, too!”  
   
Miss Militia cleared her throat.  “What … happened, just before Christmas?” she asked.  Armsmaster looked at her; Director Piggot glared at her.  Aegis just looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.  Miss Militia ignored them all and looked steadfastly at Taylor.  
   
“My mom’s flute,” said Taylor simply.  “I took it to school so I could get through the last day of school.  It’s the last thing I’ve got of hers.  They took it from my locker, and  -“ she pointed at Armsmaster.   _“He_  knows what they did to it.”  
   
Armsmaster nodded.  “Yes. They did their best to destroy it.”  
   
“So I found it on the trash heap.  I looked for a bag to put it in.  I got back with the bag, it was gone.  I skipped the rest of the classes; I went to the bathroom and locked myself in and cried.”  
   
Danny put his arm around her; she snuggled into his embrace, and continued.  “I was utterly shattered.  Devastated.  It was the most precious thing I owned, and because I’d been stupid enough to take it to school, it was gone.  Forever.”  
   
She paused, and sniffled.  A handkerchief appeared in Danny’s hand in a puff of smoke, and he handed it to her. She blew her nose, and continued.  
   
“You have to understand.  I’d had  _no_  support from the school for all the time the bullies were getting at me.  I was about as down as you can get, and still be breathing.  Dad did his best, but … some things you can’t help with.”  She paused.  “But I told him about it, and we went to see legal aid people.  And they looked at all the evidence we showed you, and they said that Mr Barnes would tear it apart in court, and we’d end up losing all our money trying to defend it.  So we had no chance.”  
   
She wiped her eyes and looked at Director Piggot.  “Have you  _read_  that stuff?”  
   
The Director nodded, stiffly.  “It was …” She seemed lost for words.  
   
“Yes!” shouted Taylor, and Aegis and Miss Militia jumped.  “I spent  _months_  writing that shit down, saving emails, and to have it thrown back in my face … that night, I decided to kill myself. Cut my wrists.  Just end it.  Let the fucking bitches win.  I couldn’t give a fuck.  I  _had nothing left.”_  
   
The silence was absolute.  She blew her nose.  “Dad … Dad saw something in my face.  Spoke to me.  Told me that if I ever wanted to talk to him about anything, that he would listen.  He would be there.  He’s been a bit distant since Mom died, but … he came back to me, that night.  And so I was lying there in bed, thinking about getting up, going to the shower, getting Dad’s straight razor …”  She shivered.  “I could  _see_  myself doing it.  I  _wanted_  to see myself doing it.”  
   
“So what happened?” asked Miss Miltia, her voice startling in the silence.  
   
Taylor gave her a wan smile, the tears still rolling down her cheeks.  “I remembered what Dad said.  I went to see him.  He was in bed.  I crawled in with him.  I’ve done it a thousand times before.  But this time … I was a confused teenager, needy for any sort of relationship I could get.  And he’d been without sex for years.  We bumped against each other, things happened, and he had a reaction.  I … wouldn’t let it go.  Forced the issue.  And things just … took their course.”   
   
She stared at Director Piggot defiantly.  “I  _can_  give you a blow-by-blow account, if you want.  I have a remarkably clear memory of that night.”  
   
The Director cleared her throat uncomfortably.  “The details of the … incident … are not what is in question here.”  
   
“No,” said Taylor.  “It’s not. It’s my life, and my Dad’s.”  She grabbed his arm, and pulled it close around her.  “The next morning … I got up, and the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, and life was  _good_. For the first.  Fucking.  Time. Ever.  Since Emma and the others had started picking at me.”  Tears were running down her face again.  
   
She glared at Director Piggot.  “He  _saved_  my  _life._    Yes, he did it by having sex with me, which is illegal three ways that I know of, but if he hadn’t, I would be fucking  _dead_ , and there would be no-one called Compass Rose finding bad guys and missing persons for you.”  
   
“You can stop –“ ventured Armsmaster.    
   
Taylor swung toward him.  “No, I fucking  _can’t!”_  she shouted.  “Because I have all that  _shit_  bottled up inside me.  And it keeps trying to get out. And the only fucking thing that keeps it down, keeps the demons from pouring their poison into my ear, keeps me from slashing my wrists in the middle of the night, is my Dad’s love, and the fact that he is willing to take me into his bed and make love to me.”  
   
She turned back to Director Piggot.  “So you can punish Dad.  Go ahead; I can’t stop you.  But whatever you do to him, you make  _fucking_ sure that you do to me, because whatever he’s guilty of, I’m twice as guilty.  And be sure to put my name on the deceased list, because as soon as I know I’ll never see him again, there is no  _fucking_  way I’ll live another week.”  
   
“You’re threatening to –“ began the Director.  
   
“I’m threatening fucking  _nothing!”_  screamed Taylor.  “I  _don’t_  want to die!  I want to  _live!_   But that only works when I have Dad with me!  If he’s gone, if I have to stop … seeing him, sleeping with him, making love with him, then … that’s all gone.  All my reason for living.  Gone.” She sank to her knees, choking on her sobs.  “I can’t go on … without him.”  
   
And then she couldn’t talk any more.  She could only cry.  And Danny was on his knees beside her, holding her.  She clung to him, crying into his shoulder.  
   
Director Piggot spoke.  “Mr Hebert.”  He didn’t hear her; she raised her voice. “Pathfinder.”  
   
He looked around at that.  “What?” he asked.  “Did you want to hurt my daughter some more?  Open some old wounds a little deeper?  Rub some salt in them, maybe?”  The venom in his tone stung her, and not least because it was not exactly unwarranted.  
   
“No,” she said.  “Take her home.  Comfort her … any way you need to.”  She closed her eyes for a moment.  “We will … discuss this.  Let you know what we have decided.”  
   
He nodded once, curtly.  They vanished in a billow of purple-brown smoke.  
   
Director Piggot looked over at Armsmaster.  “Well?” she asked.  
   
Armsmaster spread his hands.  “Every single statement was not only true, but pegged the meter on emotional content. She not only believed everything she said, but she felt very strongly about it.”  
   
Director Piggot looked at each person in turn.  “I’m opening a round-robin here.  I want each of you to give your opinion on the matter.  Including you, Aegis.”  
   
Aegis started, and stared at her.  “You want me to give an opinion on -?”  
   
She nodded curtly.  “It’s what leadership is all about.  Sometimes you have to make the hard decisions about your subordinates.  Even ones you like.  Even ones who have done distasteful things.”  
   
He nodded, taking her words in.  “Yes, ma’am.  Do you want my opinion now, or ..?”  
   
“I will ask for it, in due time.  But first. Miss Militia.  Your impressions?”  
   
Miss Militia took a deep breath.  “They are good people, in a very bad situation.  I like her.  I like  _him_.  He’s no paedophile.  When he saw his daughter in the padded costume, making her look more mature, he was  _more_  attracted, not less.”  She paused.  “Why didn’t I see that, then?”  
   
“Because you weren’t looking for it,” said Armsmaster dryly.  “None of us were.”  
   
She nodded in acknowledgement, and continued.  “Taylor is … sweet.  Kind. Friendly.  A little needy, but in her situation, I’m not exactly surprised. Danny is … a nice man.  He gets along well with the other members of the Protectorate.  A team player.  Not arrogant.  I think he’d really do well in a group.”  
   
She assumed parade rest, faced Director Piggot, and said, “I believe that if we could get past this, they would both be unbelievably valuable assets to the Protectorate.”  
   
Director Piggot nodded.  “Noted. Aegis?”  
   
Aegis gulped and nodded.  “Taylor is … a good kid.  I didn’t know she was fifteen.  The costume makes her look older.  She  _acts_  older.  More mature.  Not silly.  But she gets along well with Vista, doesn’t talk down to her, doesn’t treat her like a kid.  She’s anxious to please, doesn’t get arrogant with her power.  She was really happy she could help me out with my mom’s necklace.  She gets along with most everyone.  I think Clockblocker’s got a crush.  She seems to like Kid Win.”  
   
He took a deep breath.  “ _I_  like her.  Not just for the necklace.  For who she is.  What she is.  I’d be happy to have her on my team any day.”  A pause.  “Even knowing how it is with her and her dad … I’d still be happy.  She deserves to have friends.  Friends who understand.”  
   
He gulped again, stood in a fair approximation of Miss Militia’s parade rest, and said, “I would have her in my team any day.”  
   
Director Piggot nodded.  “Noted. Armsmaster?”  
   
The armoured hero stepped forward.  “I’ve been checking up the statutes involved.  Daniel Hebert is guilty of having sex with a minor under the age of sixteen, presumably of taking the virginity of a minor under the age of sixteen, and of course the very serious charge of incest.  If found guilty on any of these charges, he would face at least ten years of jail time.”    
   
He paused for breath.  “Taylor Hebert, by her own admission, is complicit in these actions, although her status as a minor would mitigate her legal liability in the matter.  She would spend time in a juvenile facility, and undergo psychiatric care.  Quite possibly, given the trauma she has obviously been subjected to, for the rest of her life.”  He stopped speaking.    
   
Director Piggot looked at him.  “Is that your recommendation?”  
   
He shook his head.  “No, Director.  Taylor Hebert is obviously a very troubled girl, and if I am to take my readings at all seriously, the only person keeping her at all sane is her father.  And the only way he can apparently do that is by performing illegal acts with her.  That’s one side of the matter.”  
   
He took a deep breath.  “On the other side of the matter is the glaring fact that Compass Rose and Pathfinder have done more to advance our aims in certain areas, and have brought us more positive publicity, in just three days, than we have managed in that many  _years_.  They are a hugely valuable asset to us, and by all appearances, they are willing to work with us, when a teleporter of his capability could easily have taken his daughter and simply vanished off our radar.”  
   
He took two steps forward, his hands clasped behind his back.  “You want my recommendation, Director Piggot?  Here it is.  We cover the whole thing up.  It never happened.  We move on.”  
   
A ringing silence ensued.  Aegis stared at the armoured hero as if he had just sprouted a second head.  
   
Director Piggot cleared her throat.  “I … am moved to agree with you, Armsmaster.”  She paused.  “Punishing them would gain us nothing, and a threat of punishment against Taylor may well incite Danny to flee, to turn villain with his daughter.”  There was a moment of silence, as each of them considered the ramifications of that horrifying concept.  
   
“As you can imagine, we do  _not_  want that to happen,” Director Piggot went on. “So.  Each of you has expressed positive views toward Pathfinder and Compass Rose.  Does anyone have a negative opinion of the idea of covering up this matter?”  
   
Aegis cleared his throat.  
   
Each of the elder heroes looked at him.  He appeared to wish to sink through the floor.  
   
“Uh, I’m not saying no,” he said hesitantly.  “Like I said, I like Taylor, and her dad seems to be a stand-up guy too.  But … can we … do we … really  _do_  that?  Cover up stuff like this?”  
   
Director Piggot smiled thinly.  “Carlos,” she said, startling him with the use of his name.  “This, too, is a leadership thing.  Sometimes … you have to know when to do what is not done.”  
   
She took a deep breath, and, incredibly, seemed to relax.  “Well, then, lady and gentlemen, we are of one mind.  Aegis.  You will tell the Wards, especially Gallant, that Taylor is adopted, and that she’s really sixteen; a slip-up with the paperwork.  Not blatantly, not openly.  Just … if he speaks to you on the matter, let it slip.”  
   
She paused, thinking.  “Miss Militia, you are in charge of ensuring that Glenn finds out about this, and that he never speaks of it to  _anyone_.  We do  _not_  need our PR man admonishing our star duo for being too close to one another.  He also needs to spread the public rumour that they are either unrelated or distant cousins, and that Daniel is only about twenty-five.”  
   
She looked to Armsmaster.  “Colin, you need to speak to Dragon, and have her adjust any public computer records to make it seem that Taylor is actually sixteen, and was born less than nine months after Daniel married her mother.  Raise the hint that she is not really his daughter. And I will speak to Panacea on the matter.  See if she can help in any way.”  
   
She looked around the room.  “Does anyone have any other suggestions?”  
   
No-one did.  
   
“Very well.  You have your orders. Dismissed.”  
   
***  
   
Taylor was still crying when they appeared in the living room.  Danny put his helmet on the sofa, and put hers next to it. Smoke billowed; they were in the bedroom.  
   
Then he teleported each part of her costume off her body, until she was naked.  His own costume followed, shortly afterward. Picking her up, he placed her on the bed, pulled the covers over her.  Climbed in with her.  Held her while she cried.  
   
She quieted down, still clinging to him.  Held him close.  He stroked her hair, kissed away her tears.  
   
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said at last.  “I couldn’t help it.  I shouldn’t have yelled at them, sworn at them like that.  I just felt so …”  
   
He chuckled and kissed her gently.  “I think you saved us, kiddo.”  
   
She looked confused.  He kissed her again.  She responded.  
   
“How did I do that?” she asked.  
   
“I would have tried logic,” he said caressing her body.  She began to move against him, her hand moving down, cupping, caressing.  “I would have tried to argue it out, point by point.  You threw their arguments in their faces.  Hammered them.  Made sure they couldn’t ignore you.”  
   
He kissed her again, deeply, his tongue touching hers.  She breathed heavily as he stroked her soft labia, parting them with a finger.  
   
He pushed the covers back, slid down the bed, parted her thighs.  “You made them see what was important, what was right. So this … this is me thanking you. Because it could have gone far worse.”  
   
He lowered his mouth to her soft, slick-wet labia, and did not speak again.  But his tongue was very busy indeed.  
   
They made love far into the night.  Each time he came, she felt it; each time she came, he felt it.  They ran roaring rapids of pleasure, floated in quiet backwaters of bliss, exploded in geyser-bursts of sheer, soaring ecstasy.  
   
But all good things must come to an end.  Eventually, they slept.  
   
But even in his sleep, he held her in his arms, protectively, warding off the ills of the world.  
   
And even in her sleep, she felt his protective embrace.  And in her sleep … she smiled.


	13. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Vicky make a date, Pathfinder and Compass Rose clean up a loose end, and there is a clash with the Undersiders

The phone rang insistently at six the next morning; Danny finally clawed his way out of a deep sleep to hear it shrilling in the kitchen.  He looked down; Taylor lay with her head on his chest, her dark curly hair strewn everywhere.  Her arms were about his waist.  
   
The phone rang on.  
   
He carefully moved her out of the way, rolled to the edge of the bed, and stood up.  Teleporting to the kitchen, he picked up the phone even as he brought his bathrobe to him.  
   
 _I'm going to have to get a cordless,_  he decided.  
   
"Hebert household, Danny speaking," he mumbled. Tucking the phone under his chin, he began to put on the robe.  
   
" _Pathfinder_ ," said Director Piggot, on the other end of the phone.    _"We need you and Compass Rose, immediately.  Is she able to work?"_  
   
He stopped putting on the robe.    
   
"Uh, Director Piggot?" he asked stupidly.    
   
 _"Are you and Compass Rose able to work?"_ she asked sharply. Upstairs, he felt Taylor's sleeping presence gain awareness, slipping into drowsiness and then to wakefulness. He felt the pulse of alarm as she registered the fact that he was not there, then the relief as she became fully aware of her surroundings and his exact location.    
   
"Uh, sure," he replied.  "I guess.  But about yesterday ...?". Upstairs, the warm presence that was Taylor got out of bed and padded to the bathroom.  
   
 _"What **about**  yesterday?"_ she asked.  _"Nothing untoward happened yesterday.  Pathfinder and Compass Rose are members in good standing of the Protectorate and Wards respectively."._  She paused.   _"As for what **didn't**  happen, we will address that at a later date. For now, I need you two in my office in ten minutes."_. Without farther ado, she hung up.  
   
Danny looked at the phone, just a little bemused, then hung it up as well.  
   
***  
   
Taylor looked up and smiled as her father appeared in the bathroom.  She wasn't startled; his teleports never surprised her any more. "Something's up, isn't it?" she said as she stood to wipe herself and flush the toilet.  
   
He nodded, turning the shower on. "Apparently you managed to argue yesterday into not happening.  The Director wants us on deck in ten minutes."  
   
She giggled and hugged him, then stepped into the shower as he stepped up to the toilet.  "So, two minutes to get dressed; that leaves us eight minutes for a shower and a quickie."  
   
"Closer to seven, by the time I'm finished here," he corrected her.  
   
"Well, better make it a  _good_ one then," she grinned over her shoulder at him.  
   
He joined her in the shower; they soaped each other down, then engaged in hot slippery soapy shower sex before rinsing down. It was quick, but devastating; Danny had to help Taylor out of the stall afterward, and his own knees weren't so steady either.  
   
"Oh god, Dad," she groaned as they towelled each other off, "let's do this  _every_  morning."  
   
He grinned and kissed her.  "It's a date."  
   
***  
   
Amy Dallon kissed her sister on the cheek as she sat down to breakfast.  "Morning, Vicky," she said cheerfully.  "Morning, Mom.  Morning, Dad."  
   
Victoria Dallon swallowed toast before replying. "Morning, Ames.". Mark Dallon smiled and nodded a benign greeting from the head of the table, while Carol Dallon contented herself with a nod that could have meant anything.  
   
Amy buttered a piece of toast, then glanced at Victoria.  Her sister seemed to be less than her usual chirpy, morning-person self at the moment.  "Something the matter, Vicky?"  
   
Her sister shook her head and sighed. "No, it's just Dean.  He told me last night about the two new capes they've brought into the Protectorate and the Wards, but there was something that he wasn't telling me, something that was bothering him.  I asked him, but he wouldn't say.  We argued.". Her tone said more than her voice.  It had been a bad argument, Amy could tell.  
   
 _And I bet I know what he wasn't telling_ , Amy realised.   _If it's the Heberts, he must have picked up on the fact that they're in a relationship.  But he's obviously been told to keep his mouth shut._  
  
She felt a moment of concern.   _I hope they're okay.  Danny would move heaven and earth to protect Taylor._  
  
 _We've had no alerts, so I guess it's all good._  
   
"Well, tell you what," she said brightly. "Why don't we have a day out together on Saturday, just you and me?  We'll shop on the Boardwalk, eat horribly fattening chocolate sundaes, maybe catch a movie, and you can tell me all about how horrible and insensitive Dean can be."  
   
Victoria Dallon eyed her sister warily.   _I think she just roped me into that date/not date thing,_ she realised. "Well ..." she temporised.  
   
Mark Dallon put down his newspaper and smiled. "I think that's a  _great_  idea," he said approvingly.  "Amy, that's really nice of you to support your sister like that.". He raised a finger.  "In fact, I'll give you each fifty dollars to spend on yourselves while you're out."  
   
Amy smiled at Mark, while Vicky glanced at him, just a little surprised.  "Uh, thanks, Dad," she said hesitantly. "I guess ... it’s a date, then.". She could have bitten her tongue the moment the word escaped her lips, but it had been said and could not now be unsaid.  
   
And a quick glance sideways at her sister's look of secret delight  _\- no, she didn't miss **that** , did she? - _showed her that she could not easily retract what she had said.  
   
 _I could tell her that it's not **actually**  a date, later, and she would accept that, but it would be mean to her, and it would feel like going back on my word._    
   
An internal, resigned, sigh.  
   
 _Well, I guess it's a date after all.  If she's good, she gets her kiss._  
  
 _Oh well, it could be worse.  She could be a terrible kisser._  
   
 _And look at how happy it's made her.  I can't take **that**  away from her now._  
   
She smiled at Amy.  "Thanks, Ames.  Saturday it is."  
   
And strangely, she found herself rather looking forward to it.  
   
***  
   
Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared in front of Director Piggot's desk approximately twenty seconds before the required time. Their costumes were immaculate, although her dark curly hair hung damply down her back, instead of being collected in a bun under her helmet.  Piggot decided to let that go; it was a very minor thing, after all.  
   
"We have Jack Slash's current location surrounded," she began without preamble.  "The men on the ground are waiting on a go order, but we want to ensure that he's still on site, and ascertain the status of any hostages.". She handed a sheet of paper to Taylor.  "These are the details we have on the occupants of that house."  
   
Taylor looked it over, her free hand holding her father’s.  She absorbed the details, built a gestalt for each person.  The parents were easy; the DMV had supplied driver’s license photos.  She had to take the most time on the written description of the young child.  
   
Director Piggot watched Compass Rose scan the sheet. Behind the goggles, her eyes went momentarily unfocused, then she blinked once.  
   
“He’s still in the house.  All three people on this paper are still alive, although the husband has several serious wounds, probably caused by Jack Slash, probably to keep the wife in line.  He’s been bandaged, but some of the bandages have been cut.  He’s lying on what looks like a sofa in the living room.”  
   
She took a deep breath.  “The child is unharmed, just as the wife is, but I think Jack suspects something.  He keeps looking out the windows.  His wounds do not appear to be hampering him too badly.”  
   
She raised her head.  “Who’s on duty in the infirmary today?”  
   
Piggot did not question her.  “Corpsman Harwell.  Red hair, freckles …”  
   
“Got him,” Taylor interrupted her.  “That’s where the infirmary is then … right. Dad, when he goes into the back room …”  
   
“The baby?” he asked her.  
   
“If we grab her prematurely, it may alert him.”   
   
“If we  _don’t_ , he may kill her out of spite.”  
   
Director Piggot spoke up unexpectedly.  “Can you get men into the house?”  
   
Danny nodded.  “Easily.”  
   
Piggot called up a personnel file on the computer, spun the monitor around.  “This is Commander Evans.  He’s in charge.  He should be around the command post, out of sight of the house, of course.  I’ll send him your clearances.”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Got him. Tell Harwell to expect one casualty, soon.”  
   
Piggot raised an eyebrow.  “Only one?”  
   
It was Danny who spoke, his voice grim.  “He isn’t going to get a  _chance_  to hurt anyone else.”  
   
***  
   
They appeared at the command post, just as Evans was putting down the radio comm unit.  He wa a tall, spare man, in his late forties, but with that hard, fit body that never seems to age.  “Compass Rose and Pathfinder, I presume?” he asked.  
   
Danny nodded.  “We need six men, armoured and armed.  And I presume you have others covering the back door?”  
   
Evans nodded, and spoke into his comm.  “I do, but I doubt he’ll come out that way.”  
   
Taylor worked to keep her face straight.  “He might change his mind.”  
   
Evans looked at her a little dubiously.  She held Danny’s hand tightly, for reassurance; all of a sudden, she was a lot less sure of the plan.  
   
The six men arrived,  Danny arranged them, each with a hand on the next man’s shoulder, guns up and ready.  “Your target will be in front of you when you arrive,” he said.  “You are free to fire as soon as you see him.”  
   
They waited; Taylor had Danny shift them a little around to the right.  They waited a little more. One of the men fidgeted; Evans snapped a command.  The man stilled.  
   
Taylor’s head came up.  “On three,” she said.  Everyone came to full alert.  
   
“One.  Two. Thr-“  
   
They vanished in a puff of purple-brown smoke.  
   
***  
   
Jack Slash prowled through the house, his thoughts dark. They were out there, he knew.  He could feel them.  The woman would be no trouble, and the baby was extra insurance. But as moving hostages, difficult. Easier to slash their throats and make a run for it.  Kill as many as he could before –  
   
“ – ee!”  
   
The air shifted behind him; purple-brown smoke billowed out. Guns levelled out of it, pointed at him.  He swung the knife, slashed, dived for the door.  Shots slammed out.  Some hit him.  He hit the door, burst through it, rolled on the ground. More shots hit him.  Too many.  He tried to reach his knees, to swing the knife, but a large man in a PRT uniform stepped up and levelled an assault rifle.  He reached for something defiant to say –  
   
***  
   
There was one final shot from outside.  A burly sergeant appeared in the doorway.  “It’s safe to come out now.  He’s dead.”  
   
Neither Taylor nor Danny took him up on the offer.  
   
***  
   
Pathfinder and Compass Rose sat in front of Director Piggot’s desk.  
   
“You’ve done well for a first official outing.”  Her tone was approving.  “All hostages saved, the bad guy dead.”  She paused.  “ _Jack Slash_  dead.”  
   
Danny nodded.  “So what happens next?” he asked.  
   
Taylor’s stomach rumbled.  “Hopefully, involving food,” she said.  “We didn’t get breakfast.”  
   
Director Piggot nodded.  “Go get something to eat,” she said.  “Be back in an hour.  We have the TV spot to shoot.”  
   
Danny and Taylor looked at each other.  
   
“TV spot?” they asked simultaneously.  
   
Piggot nodded again.  “Just a ten-minute spot.  It’ll be on the news tonight.  Miss Militia will introduce you as the two new members of the Wards and the Protectorate.”  
   
“Wow,” said Taylor.  “And so ... what will we need to say?”  
   
Director Piggot inclined her head.  “Not much.  Just your names, and a little about your powers.”  She raised a finger.  “Downplay them.  Do  _not_  show off, like you did with Aegis.  Bad guys watch the news too.”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Okay,” she said.  “I got it.”  She stood up from the chair.  “Uh .. I meant to say earlier ... thanks for ... giving us this chance ...”  
   
Director Piggot shook her head.  “No thanks necessary,” she said.  “It was a unanimous decision.”  She waved a hand, a shooing motion.  “Go. Eat.  We do not want your stomach rumbling on national TV.”  
   
Danny grinned behind his mask, grasped Taylor’s hand.  “One hour?” he said.  
   
“One hour,” she confirmed.  
   
Billowing smoke, and they were gone.  
   
***  
   
They were standing in the living room once more.  
   
“Actually, Dad,” said Taylor as she took her helmet off, “if you just stood there and teleported to the same location over and over, it might make a fair-sized cloud of smoke, or fog, or whatever that stuff is.”  
   
“Huh,” said Danny, likewise removing his headgear.  “I’ll have to try that sometime.  What would you like to eat?”  
   
Taylor grinned, dropping her overcoat on the sofa, and undoing the top of the costume proper.  “I don’t care.  Just start serving it up.”  
   
They ate in companionable silence, sandwiches and fruit from the fridge.  They didn’t need anything fancy, and nor did they want it, because another urge was starting to make itself known.  
   
Taylor had undone her top and let it sag open, so that he could see her Victoria’s Secret underwear beneath.  Leaning in, she kissed her father lingeringly.  “Do you want to make love wearing our costumes?” she asked huskily.  “Masks and all?”  
   
Danny felt suddenly aroused.  “Let me make some ... adjustments,” he suggested.  There was a puff of smoke from her chest, and then her breasts were bare within the open top; her bra was in his other hand. Then he slid his hand down inside her pants, copping an extremely gratuitous feel as he did so, and did the same with her panties.  
   
A burst of smoke heralded his own underwear falling to the floor beside him.  She loosened her belt, lowered her pants to show her bare buttocks and her dripping sex.  
   
“My room,” she murmured.  “Bend me over my bed, and take me hard.”  
   
They were in her room, wearing their masks.  He grabbed her, pushed her face down on the bed, pulled her pants down.  His hands cupped her ass, sliding between her welcoming thighs, caressing and rubbing her soft wet vagina.  She reached into her top, squeezing and pinching her breasts.  
   
“Oh please, yes, Dad,” she moaned.  “Please.  Do it like the time we nearly got caught.  I need to  _feel_  it.”  
   
She arched her back and groaned as he slid his penis between her distended labia, and began to thrust into her.  Gradually, he began to increase his tempo, until he was rocking her forward on to the bed with every stroke, making her gasp with arousal.  
   
The very novelty of doing it with the costumes on told, and she was soon climaxing loudly.  He held her hips, feeling her orgasms washing through his body, pushing his penis into her, over and over and over again, his arousal mounting exponentially, as he felt her vaginal canal clenching around him.  
   
All too soon, he pulled her hard on to his penis, driving deep into her slippery wet depths, and came, spurting wad after wad of  hot white semen into her quivering womb.  His climax blasted all coherent thought from their minds; all that they were, was what they were doing, and doing it over and over again.  
   
She collapsed on the the bed, panting hard, as he slumped on to the bed next to her, slowly letting his penis slide out from between her thighs. Even that little bit of movement afforded her a little extra pleasure, and she sighed softly.  
   
Lifting away the lower part of his mask, she kissed him. “I love you, Dad,” she said softly. “I can’t say it enough.  You are so wonderful to me.”  
   
He held her tightly.  “And I love you too, Taylor.”  He grinned, and took the helmet off again.  “Suppose we get out of these, and have a shower now?”  
   
 _“Just_  a shower?” she asked with a return grin.  
   
He chuckled, teleporting her costume off her.  “We’ll see.”  
   
***  
   
They got back to base three minutes ahead of schedule; this time, Taylor’s hair was properly bundled up under her helmet.  Piggot approved; the less visual cues as to her identity, the better.  Of  course, once all the countermeasures were in place, it would be less of a problem, but Emily Piggot had always been a belt-and-braces sort of person.  
   
“It’s being shot at the TV news studio, downtown,” she told them. “Miss Militia is on site.”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Okay, got it.”  
   
Danny looked at the Director.  “Did you want to come along?” he asked.  “I can have you back here after the shoot.”  
   
She shook her head regretfully.  “I have far too much paperwork to deal with,” she told him. “But I will take you up on that, sometime.”  
   
***  
   
Miss Militia looked up as they arrived.  “Ah,” she said.  “Good.  You’re here.”  She shook Danny’s hand, and then Taylor’s.  “Good work with Jack Slash.”  
   
Danny shrugged.  “The PRT did all the work; we just expedited.”  
   
She nodded.  “It’s called teamwork for a reason.  Commander Evans had some very nice things to say in his report.”  
   
Taylor grinned.  “He was a lot happier after it was over, I’ll say that.”  
   
The older woman nodded again.  “Good officers are always happy when their men come through without a scratch.”  She looked searchingly at them. “So how do you feel about your first major action?”  
   
“I’m just happy no-one else got hurt,” said Taylor promptly.  
   
Danny nodded.  “Something like that,” he said, putting an  arm around Taylor’s shoulders.  
   
“That can be a concern,” said Miss Militia.  “I’d like to sit down with the two of you sometime, and work out tactics and strategies to use with your powers.”  
   
Taylor grinned.  “That could be really cool.”  
   
Danny nodded.  “I think ... I would really like that.”  
   
“Good,” said Miss Militia.  She looked around.  “Ah, they’re calling us.  Let’s get you into position.”  
   
***  
   
They were dabbing powder on to Taylor’s nose and cheeks as a last-minute bid to deal with glare, and giving her instructions at the same time.  
   
Basically, as far as she could see, they boiled down to ‘wait till Miss Militia begins to introduce us, then teleport in’.  But for some reason, they seemed to want to dress it up in a dozen different extra options, then dress it down into baby talk.  
   
She wanted to snap, to tell them to leave her alone, that she had it.  But she didn’t, because this  _was_  her first TV spot, and she didn’t want to make a bad impression.  And then she felt Danny’s hand resting gently on her shoulder, and it made all the difference.  
   
***  
   
 _“And allow me to introduce ...”_  
   
On th screen, Miss Militia gestured at an empty spot on the stage.  A drumroll began to sound.  
   
“What’s going on?” asked Regent, wandering into the room.  
   
“Shh!” said Tattletale.  “A couple new capes are joining the Protectorate and the Wards. They’re introducing them now.”  
   
The drumroll built to a crescendo, then just as it ended, there was a billow of purple-brown smoke at the spot indicated.  As it dissipated, two figures could be seen standing there, a taller masculine figure with his hand on the shoulder of a shorter feminine figure.  
   
“Damn,” said Grue admiringly.  “Nice entrance.”  
   
“Eh, I’ve seen better,” said Regent disparagingly.  
   
Bitch said nothing, barely even looking at the screen as she groomed her dogs.  
   
The spot went on; the two capes seated themselves with Miss Militia, and were introduced as Pathfinder and Compass Rose.    
   
“Sh!” said Tattletale suddenly.  “Holy shit.  It’s her. It’s  _them!”_  
   
Grue looked at her enquiringly.  “Them who?”  
   
Tattletale’s eyes were glued to the screen.  “The girl and her dad from the mall, you know, just before Christmas?  The ones that were holding hands?”  
   
Grue frowned.  “You said something about how they were having sex?”  
   
Tattletale nodded.  “Well, that’s them, and they’re still having sex.  And from all appearances, they’ve gotten better with practice.”  
   
“Holy shit,” said Grue.  “And the Protectorate and the Wards are letting them  _join?”_  
   
“Maybe they don’t know,” hazarded Regent.  
   
Tattletale shook her head.  “Oh, they know,” she said, watching Miss Militia.  “They know, and they either don’t care, or don’t care enough to do anything about it.”  
   
“God damn,” muttered Regent.  “That could really hurt them if it got out.”  
   
Tattletale got up to go to the kitchen; she was just coming back when she heard the rattle of keys from Regent’s laptop.  
   
“Oh shit,” she said.  “You didn’t just ... fuck, what did you  _say_  to them?”  
   
Regent chuckled; even Grue was grinning and shaking his head. “Just shaking their tree a bit, is all.”  
   
Tattletale leaned over and read the message Regent had sent to Compass Rose’s email address.  
   
 _Hey, mall girl._  
  
 _Still fucking your daddy?_  
  
 _Have a nice day._  
  
 _R_  
   
Her face drained white.  “Fuck!” she gasped.  “Everyone, up!  Grab what shit you can carry! We’ve got to get the fuck out of here!”  
   
Regent looked up at her.  “Why?” he asked.  “It’s an anonymous account.  No way they’ll trace it.”  
   
“Weren’t you  _listening?”_  she shouted at him.  “She  _finds_  things.  And that might mean people, too.  Or the laptop you just sent that from.”  She pointed her finger at him.  “And you just got her total and undivided attention.”  
   
Grue started to get up.  “How long do we have?” he asked.  
   
“I don’t know,” said Tattletale.  “But we have to assume less than half an hour.”  
   
Less than seven minutes later, there was a burst of purple-brown smoke that filled half the room.  When it cleared, half a dozen PRT troops were standing there, training guns on all four members of the Undersiders.  Two more guns were aimed at Bitch’s dogs.  Slightly behind and between the PRT men were the now-familiar forms of Pathfinder and Compass Rose.  
   
Pathfinder was the first to speak.  
   
“Hi.  We'd like a  _word_  with you.”  
   
***  
   
Grue shouted in alarm and darkness washed out from him, filling the room.  
   
“Grue!” shouted Compass Rose.   _“I can see you!  Stand down!”_  
   
He looked her way.  She was holding a pistol, small enough to fit in her hand.  It was an awkward, untrained grip, but the barrel was pointed dead-centre at him.  He stepped to the side.  The barrel shifted to follow him.  
   
 _Oh.  Crap._  
   
“We’re here to talk!” shouted Pathfinder.  “No hostilities!”  
   
“What about all the  _guns?”_ demanded Regent, out of the darkness.  
   
“That’s just to get your attention!” shouted Compass Rose. “Now  _stand down_.  I haven’t shot you yet; I’m not about to, unless someone does something stupid!”  
   
Gradually, reluctantly, Grue reduced his darkness until it roiled around his face and body.  
   
“So talk,” he said.  
   
***  
   
The rifles were held at port arms; none of the Undersiders were threatened by them, but the awareness that they could be was always there. Compass Rose had put her little pistol away, and now she and Pathfinder stood side by side, facing the four Undersiders.  
   
“Who sent the mail?” asked Compass Rose quietly.  
   
Regent didn’t speak, but Tattletale nudged him.  “Yeah, me,” he said grudgingly.  
   
She stepped forward to confront him.  “That was a  _really fucking stupid_  thing to do,” she said very softly.  “That thing that you said?  The Protectorate is working very hard to suppress even the concept of that.  And you just came out and  _said_  it.”  
   
Tattletale was staring at her.  “Christ,” she blurted.  “The reason they’re so hot to keep it a secret ... you’re  _better_  than –“  
   
Abruptly, Pathfinder was right in front of her, in the midst of a cloud of dissipating purple-brown smoke.  “That sentence had better end right there,” he said very firmly.  She looked at his tinted goggles, his face-concealing mask, and thought better of continuing.  
   
He spoke again, loud enough for each of the Undersiders to hear.  
   
“You four kids have two pieces of information that the PRT wishes to keep well under wraps.  This can go two ways.  The first way is that we deliver you gift-wrapped to Director Piggot –“  
   
“Yeah, right,” sneered Regent.  
   
Compass Rose had not shifted from her position in front of him. “You’ve already made one serious error of judgement tonight.  Don’t make it two.”  
   
Tattletale nodded urgently.  “Regent.   _Shut the fuck up.”_  
   
Compass Rose nodded approvingly.  “As Pathfinder was saying, we can hand you over and you will just ... disappear.  Or, we can do the other thing.”  
   
“Which is?” asked Grue warily.  
   
“We leave,” she said simply.  “You go about your business.  But you  _never, ever_  tell anyone about what you know. And we  _never, ever_  make it our business to make sure you are never seen again.”  
   
Regent snorted.  “And tomorrow, or the next day, these guys come back with some buddies and kick in our door anyway.”  
   
Pathfinder didn’t even look over that way.  “Sergeant Morris!”  
   
“Sir!”  
   
“Do you have any idea of where you are right now?”  
   
“Sir, no, sir!  I’m from Miami, sir!”  
   
“Are you going to be telling anybody anything about what’s happened in this room, Morris?”  
   
“Sir, I don’t even believe we were  _in_  this room, sir!”  
   
Pathfinder nodded.  “And so.”  
   
Tattletale stared.  “Christ,” she whispered.  “You’ve got  _that_  much pull with –“  
   
He wagged a finger.  She shut up.  
   
“So,” said Compass Rose.  “We have an agreement?”  She looked around at them.  “Just remember.  From here on in, no matter where you go, no matter what you look like, I  _can_  find you, and I  _will_  find you if I have to.”  
   
Grue nodded reluctantly.  “Agreed.”  
   
Tattletale nodded as well.  “Agreed.”  
   
Bitch glowered.  “Fucking okay.  I didn’t even know –“  
   
“Bitch!” hissed Grue.  
   
“Fine.  Agreed.”  
   
They looked at Regent.  “Yeah, okay.  Agreed.”  
   
Compass Rose took Pathfinder’s hand.  “And we agree to not tell anyone about this base.”  They stepped back to the PRT soldiers.  
   
Pathfinder nodded to the Undersiders.  “Be good.  And if you can’t be good –“  
   
Compass Rose chimed in with “ – don’t get caught.”  
   
There was a billow of purple-brown smoke.  
   
And then they were gone, the PRT soldiers with them.  
   
Grue sagged limply down to the sofa again.  Tattletale sat beside him.  
   
 _“That_  was fucking scary,” said Grue.  
   
Tattletale nodded.  “And it could have gone a  _lot_  worse.”  
   
“Were they really all that?” asked Regent.  
   
Tattletale looked up at him.  “Alec,” she said softly.  “They were  _holding back.”_  
   
“Right,” said Regent.  “Okay.  New resolution.  Not pissing them off. Ever.”  
   
“Amen to fucking  _that,”_  agreed Grue.  
   
***  
   
Bitch groomed her dogs.  She had already decided on that course of action.    
   
 _If they don’t attack me ... I won’t attack them._  
   
In the face of a stronger foe, it was the only sensible course.


	14. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clash from the Undersiders is revisited, and Taylor goes back to school

"Hurry up, Dad!" called out Taylor.  "Our TV spot's coming up soon!"  
   
She sat back on the sofa, her costume on but unfastened to a certain degree; under it, she wore the bikini that Danny liked so much.  She intended to surprise him with it later.  
   
A billow of smoke heralded her father's appearance, and he sat beside her on the sofa. He also wore his costume, and she noted that he had undone it for greater access as well.  She grinned to herself;  _Tonight should be fun_.  
   
As the TV spot began, she fiddled with the new smartphone she had been issued; among other functions, it allowed her to go online.  Danny had a similar one, but he wasn't as enthralled with his as she was with hers.  
   
During the course of the TV spot, her official Wards email address was put up, along with the one for Pathfinder.  
   
And then her phone pinged.   _You have one (1) new email message_ , it said.  
   
"Hey, Dad," she said with a grin.  "Check it out.  My first fan mail.". She tapped the envelope icon, and the message opened up.  
   
 _Hey, mall girl,_ she read.   _Still fucking your dad?  Have a nice day.  R._  
   
She went cold all over.  Danny's head whipped around as he felt the terror and anger that surged through her body. He saw her staring at the phone; it puffed into smoke and appeared in his hand.  His jaw clenched as he read it.  
   
" _Fuck_ ," he grated.  "Do you know who sent this?"  
   
"No - yes," she amended her statement.  "That girl in the mall on Christmas Eve.   _She_  knew.". She concentrated on the memory, a freckled face, dirty blonde hair in a fancy braid, a knowing, vulpine smile.  It unfolded into a face, an image, a location.  
   
 _I **know**  that face.  I  **know**  that location._  
   
She had found her first by sheer fluke; looking up missing persons, she had located one Sarah Livsey, wearing a strange purple and black costume.  Looking through the Parahumans Online boards, she had picked out Tattletale, of the Undersiders.  The names and costumes of the other Undersiders had given her more hits, until she had solid locks on each of them, and a strong possibility for a base location.  
   
 _She warned me, then.  Why is she messing with me now?  And why 'R'?  Unless it's to throw me off._  
  
She began fastening her costume, as did Danny.  Playtime could come later.  This was serious business.    
   
Ten seconds later, her helmet on, she faced her father.  He leaned down and kissed her; the kiss held love and affection and a promise for later.  Then he teleported them both out of there.  
   
***  
   
There was a burst of purple-brown smoke, and the Heberts, in full costume, appeared in Director Piggot's office.  She looked up with barely a start of surprise.  
   
"If I recall correctly, you're off duty tonight," she said with just a touch of asperity.  
   
"This is serious," said Danny, in what he was coming to think of as his 'Pathfinder voice', slower paced, and with more accent on the strong consonants. He handed over Taylor's phone.    
   
Piggot read the message, glanced over to where the TV spot was still playing on the small screen on her desk, and then back to Taylor.  "Fast work," she commented.  "Do you have a line on a suspect?"  
   
Taylor nodded tightly.  "I think it's the Undersiders.  I met Tattletale once before, and she knows about me and Dad."  
   
"I see," said the Director, not bothering to ask for details.  Those could come later.  "What do you intend to do about it?"  
   
"Throw a scare into them," said Danny promptly.  "Can we borrow half a dozen men who can be trusted to be discreet?"  
   
Piggot smiled thinly.  "Oh, I think we can manage that.". She keyed her desk comm.  "Sergeant Morris!  You and five men who can keep their mouths shut, to the armoury, on the double!". She got up from behind her desk and walked carefully around it to stand in front of them.  "I'll take you up on that offer of a lift, now," she said.  
   
Taylor concentrated on the name 'Sergeant Morris'.  There was only one person who went by that specific designation in the Brockton Bay PRT tower, and he appeared in her mind's eye, unfolded into a mental image, standing at attention in front of a door with five other blurry images; people, she knew.  Ones she had not met yet.  
   
***  
   
Morris blinked as the sudden billow of purple-brown smoke gave way to three figures; the Director and two capes, whom he vaguely recognised as the two new intakes; they'd just been watching the TV spot on them.  
   
"Director Piggot, ma'am!" he snapped, saluting.  The other men did likewise.  
   
"At ease," she responded, returning the salute.  "This is Pathfinder, and that’s Compass Rose. They have my highest confidence.  They have a mission for you. You will draw rifles, one magazine each.  You will follow their orders in the field.  You will follow their lead.  You are not to fire unless fired upon.  Are there any questions?"  
   
"Ah, yes, ma'am," said Morris promptly.  "What is the aim of this mission?"  
   
"The Undersiders have pulled our tail, Sergeant," she told him. "Compass Rose and Pathfinder wish to explain to them why they should never do that again.   _Your_  job is to make sure they listen to reason."  
   
He nodded once.  "Roger that, ma'am."  
   
The tall cape, Pathfinder, cleared his throat.  "Sergeant, I have one question.  What's military speak for 'don't do anything stupid'?"  
   
Morris smiled slightly.  "That would be 'stand down', sir."  
   
Pathfinder nodded.  "Ah. Thank you, Sergeant."  
   
Piggot broke in, even as the men were taking rifles from the racks. "Also, one sidearm each for the capes, I believe.  Just in case."  
   
Morris nodded.  With a practised eye, he picked out two pistols in clip-on holsters; a standard sized automatic for Pathfinder and a smaller pistol for Compass Rose.  
   
"These are both Glocks," he told them briefly.  "No external safety catch.  Point and shoot.  Pull back the slide to chamber the first round.". He gave them a severe glare. "These are  _not_  toys.  Wave them around like you're playing cowboys and indians, and I  _will_  take them off you."  
   
They nodded obediently.  He turned to Piggot and saluted.  "Ready to go, ma'am."  
    
She nodded.  "Go."  
   
***  
   
They teleported into the Undersiders' base.  They were frantically packing up gear.  
   
Danny couldn't resist.  "Hi. We’d like a  _word_  with you."  
   
The looks on their faces were  _priceless_.  
   
***  
   
Afterward, once the weapons had been handed back in - Danny had not even had to pull his from the holster - they sat in Director Piggot's office.  
   
"So, do you think they'll be good?" asked the Director. "Or should we think about pulling them in?"  
   
Danny shook his head.  "No, I think they got the message.". He frowned.  "They were just  _kids."_  
   
"Kids," Director Piggot reminded him, "with two murder charges to their name."  
   
Taylor looked pensive.  "Maybe I should have made an offer for them to join the Wards," she mused.  
   
It was Piggot's turn to shake her head.  "After you essentially kicked in their door and pointed guns in their faces?  Either their pride would demand they say no, or they'd see it as an 'or else' threat, and resent it.  No, it wasn't the right time or place."  
   
Taylor nodded.  "I guess you're right.". She stood up; Danny followed suit.  "I guess we'll see you tomorrow then."  
   
Director Piggot nodded.  "Good night to you.". She watched them clasp hands before the billow of smoke engulfed them, and they were gone.  
   
***  
   
Danny sat on the edge if his bed, pulling his boots off.  He could teleport his clothes off, but sometimes it was nice just to do it by hand.  One boot dropped to the floor, and he started on the other.  
   
Taylor had excused herself to the bathroom as soon as they got in; she hadn't come out yet.  Her mood indicated delighted anticipation; he could not wait to find out what she was up to.  
   
She appeared in the doorway to his bedroom, silhouetted from behind.  He blinked; she was wearing just her helmet, the light coat from her costume, her boots ... and those naughty, naughty bikini pants. The coat hung open; he could see her bare breasts within.  
   
"Pathfinder," she said in a sultry voice.  "I've been a very bad girl.  Maybe you should punish me.". She hooked a thumb into the briefs and pulled them down just far enough to make them thoroughly indecent. "My butt really needs to be punished."  
   
He stood up; his pants puffed into smoke, vanished, reappeared three feet to his left, fell to the floor.  He stepped forward, his erection swelling as he took in Taylor's calculatedly slutty appearance.  
   
She came into his arms, reaching down to stroke and caress his throbbing penis. He ran his hands over her breasts, feeling the erect nipples, around her sides under the coat, and down to her buttocks.  Sliding his hands inside her bikini pants, he ran his fingers between her taut buttocks, making her gasp and rub herself against him.  She had slathered herself with lube, he discovered with rising arousal.  Two of his fingers slid easily into her anus, and she arched her back and kissed him hard.  
   
He bent her over the bed.  She looked back over her shoulder at him as he pulled outward on the strings of the bikini pants; they came undone, falling away, leaving her naked butt vulnerable, inviting, ready for him.  
   
She felt a thrill of anticipation, of arousal.  He was always a considerate lover, even when he was being deliberately rough, and his touch turned her on at such a fundamental level that she barely even thought about it any more.  From the first time she had given in to the impulse, had urged him to make love to her, had accepted him into her body, had given herself to him, he had treated her with such gentleness and kindness that she had wanted to cry.   _Had_ cried, on a couple of occasions.  
   
And even with this act, that they had thought impossible, he was managing to give her pleasure unimaginable.  With her insistence, and his tenderness and care, they had managed it, and now, even as sore as it made her after the fact, she still looked forward to it with positive eagerness.  
   
He looked at her, his hands caressing her buttocks, feeling where the lube had been applied thickly so as to be ready for him.  He loved her;  _had_  loved her as his daughter for all of her life before this point, and still did in point of fact. The fact that she now shared his bed, and shared her body with him, did not cause him to love her one iota less.  
   
She had been so touchingly eager to please him, to do what she thought he wanted to do with her, that it had almost broken his heart, before they got their powers. They had tried anal once, at her suggestion, and it had proven too uncomfortable for her.  But since their powers had triggered, their bodies were so in tune that she was able to relax herself at his intrusion, and even reach some startlingly powerful orgasms.  
   
Teasingly, he slid his penis down between her parted thighs, sliding it between her swollen labia, deliberately not penetrating her despite her whimpers of desire, pushing on to rub the rigidly erect glans over her clitoris.  She cried out softly as a small orgasm rippled through her body; his knees nearly buckled as he caught the feedback, and he almost came all over her.  
   
Sliding his erection up between her labia, he pressed gently at her vulva, letting himself slide just a little way into her oh so tight, hot, wet vagina.  She rocked backward, seeking him inside her, but he held her hips tightly.  
   
Pulling out again, despite every urge to thrust his rampant penis to the hilt within her willing slippery depths, he lifted himself slightly and pressed the tip of his lubricated erection against the equally-lubricated opening to her rectum.  
   
He gasped as the delicate puckered rosette of her anus relaxed and opened to allow him entry, the tight sphincter folding around the head of his penis and sliding down along his shaft as he penetrated her most secret depths.    
   
She gasped as he slid inside her; even the repeated experiences that they had shared had not fully accustomed her to the feeling of his thoroughly erect penis inside her anal passage, and he felt just as huge as he had when he had first penetrated her in this fashion.  
   
For his part, the tightness of her somewhat stretched bottom around his invading cock was, if anything, more arousing than the first time they had managed it.  The knowledge that his daughter, his lover, enjoyed the act just as much as he did was a considerable turn-on.  
   
Between the slickness of her secretions on his his engorged penis, and the lubricant which she had so carefully applied to her tightest orifice, he was able to penetrate her easily, sliding into her inch by inch, until his testicles rested gently against her distended labia.  He throbbed inside her; by now she had her face resting upon her crossed arms on the bed, making tiny whimpering sounds of utter ecstasy.  
   
He drew partially out of her, then thrust forward once more, his erect penis sliding gently but firmly into the tightly stretched opening between her buttocks, to her gasping delight.  
   
The sensation of penetrating her anally was nothing short of incredible; he wanted to drive in hard between her buttocks, to plunder that delicate orifice, to experience to the full the tightness and friction that her ass could bestow upon his thrusting cock.  But he didn't, because he knew it would cause her pain, and perhaps injury, lubrication or no lubrication.  So he stroked in and out of her, slowly, steadily, feeling his climax approaching, holding it off as long as he could, deliberately slowing down his thrusts to draw out the moment.  
   
The sensation of having him sliding his penis between her buttocks and deep inside her ass was  _amazing_.  Vaginal sex was insanely arousing, but having his erection fill her up so completely was mind-blowing all on its own.  She was fully aware that she was only just able to accommodate him, but the minor discomfort at being stretched so widely was overcome and utterly subsumed by the pleasure of having him sliding in and out of her tightest hole.  
   
He could not help himself; as his climax approached, he began to thrust harder and faster into her.  For her part, her asshole having stretched to allow just a little more free action, she thrust herself back at him, crying out again and again as orgasmic pleasure began to ripple through her body, spreading out from her tightly-stretched rectal passage.  
   
His hands roamed over her body, squeezing a breast here, rubbing her clitoris there, caressing her thigh, holding her close.  Every touch heightened her pleasure, increased the intensity of her ongoing climax, which echoed back through their shared link to him.  And then she hit a new high; this, and her tightly clenching sphincter, drove him over the edge.    
   
Thrusting deeply into her, he came, spurting hot white semen deep into her bowels, over and over, his hips pumping as he climaxed.  The blinding ecstasy blasted through him, amplified by her own orgasms, and he came all the harder.  His spectacular orgasm was reflected back to her and she screamed as it overwhelmed all her senses, whiting out her world, and making it feel as though her every nerve ending was a conduit for pure pleasure and nothing else.  
   
Groggily, he came back to himself.  He was slumped over her; she was lying forward over the bed, face pressed to the covers, his penis still firmly embedded deep within her twitching, pulsating asshole.  
   
Slowly, carefully, he slid his deflating penis from her somewhat-abused anus. She whimpered as he did so, but he could feel that this was more from pleasure than pain.  He divested himself of the remains of his costume, and did the same for her.  White trickles were still oozing from her slowly contracting anal opening as he put the bikini pants on her, tying the strings with clumsy fingers.  Then he placed her on the bed, turned out the lights, and climbed in beside her.  
   
***  
   
She gradually came out of the blissful post-orgasmic daze to realise that the lights were out, she was under the covers, and that she was once more in Danny's arms.  
   
“Good god, Dad,” she murmured, pulling him a little closer, “that was beyond incredible.” The movement started a twinge in her ass, and she could feel the gentle burning sensation that bespoke of far too much friction in a sensitive area.  
   
But  _oooh,_  it felt nice.  
   
He kissed her gently on the lips.  “It was,” he replied.  “I’m glad we can only do that once in a while.  Because if we could do it more often, I’d be dead of a heart attack by now.”  
   
She giggled sleepily.  “You and me both, Dad.  You and me both.”  
   
She snuggled warmly in next to him as they both drifted off to sleep.  She loved her Dad  _so_  much.  
   
His arms encircled her protectively as his eyes closed.  He would hold her, and protect her, just as long as he could. Because he loved her.  
   
***  
   
He was cooking breakfast the next morning when she came padding down the stairs in her running gear and socks.  
   
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he grinned as he leaned out of the kitchen.  “You were really spark out this morning, so I decided to let you lie in a bit.”  
   
“Thanks heaps, Dad,” she retorted.  “I’m gonna go for my run now.  Drop me off at school after breakfast?”  
   
“Sure,” he said.  The insurance was still coming back for the truck, and it was still undriveable, but he wasn’t worried much about that at the moment.  
   
She came over for a hug and a kiss, then headed out for her run.  
   
***  
   
There was still a residual soreness between her buttocks as she started down the street, but it was more of a reminder than an actual spot of pain.  She even managed to tune it out as she carried on her regular path, working up a sweat and enjoying the morning.  
   
Arriving back in good time to get her breakfast, she enjoyed a nice companionable chat with her father before it was time to go to school.  
   
***  
   
These days, school was … different.  She didn’t know whether it was the way she carried herself and looked at the world, or if it was the way word had gotten around. A little of column A, and a little of column B, she expected.    
   
She had been locked into a locker filled with the most vile trash that could be acquired in or around the school; and yet, here she was, walking around as if nothing had happened.  More, she was walking tall while Sophia was gone altogether and Emma and Madison were looking very hangdog indeed.  It was enough to make people wonder.  
   
 _Thanks, Dad,_  she thought.   _Another one I owe you for._  
   
Part of her new self-assurance came from her powers and her status as a Ward, she knew.  But the larger part of it was from being with her father, of having him in her life, there to back her up if and when she needed it.  
   
She went to her locker, opened it.  It was spotless; even the damaged lock had been replaced.  Emma and Madison were standing at their lockers, looking over at her.  She grinned, reached into her bag, and pulled out the flute.  Putting it to her lips, she played a few bars – about all she  _could_  play, to be honest – and smiled at them, at the disbelief on their faces.  
   
 _Armsmaster really did fix it properly_ , she thought.  Carefully, she placed it on the shelf in her locker, placed her bag on the floor, pulled out her books, and closed her locker.  
   
With a smile on her face and a song in her heart, she walked straight past them and on to her first class.  
   
***  
   
She was sitting in Computer Studies class, with one window logged into the Parahumans Online board, reading the chatter about herself and Pathfinder.  The speculation had been intense; some had them as brother and sister, others as husband and wife.  Some did advance the opinion that they were father and daughter.  But the general opinion was that they were simply two people who had teamed up and chosen to wear similar costumes.    
  
The one guy who had posted a fairly inarticulate screed about how they were  _obviously_  father and daughter, and probably having an incestuous relationship, had been slammed so hard she was mildly surprised there wasn’t a splatter of blood in the middle of his post.  So many people had flamed him for even thinking such a thing that he had logged off shortly thereafter.  
   
And then, over her email address, the site popped up a message for her.  
   
 _R says sorry.  Can we talk?_  
  
 _Tt._  
   
Intrigued, she typed a message back.  
   
 _Apology accepted.  About what?_  
  
 _CR_  
   
She focused her attention, and saw Tattletale, wearing ordinary clothes, typing at a computer in the library, of all places.  _Why use that, when she has internet at home?_  
   
The next message popped up.  
   
 _Stuff.  Really. Need to talk f2f.  Pls?_  
  
 _Tt._  
   
Taylor blinked.   _She **really**  wants to talk._  
   
 _Saturday.  Boardwalk. We’ll find you._  
   
She paused before hitting Send.  
   
 _We’ll bring one other.  No tricks._  
  
 _CR_  
   
The message popped up almost immediately.  
   
 _See you there._  
  
 _Tt._  
   
She closed the page and leaned back, staring at her computer.   _Now what’s **that**  all about?_


	15. Combat Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panacea makes some modifications, Lisa makes a connection with Pathfinder and Compass Rose, and a war begins

“So how’s this supposed to work again?” asked Taylor, looking dubiously at Panacea.  
   
Panacea looked at Director Piggot.  “Wait a moment,” she said. “You never told her?”  
   
Piggot looked uncomfortable.  “Not the details, no.”  
   
“Details are good,” said Danny.  “We like details.  As many as possible.”  
   
Panacea took a deep breath. “Okay, this is how it’s supposed to go. If you two are outed as who you are, and your sexual relationship is exposed, apparently it will cause the PRT a huge backlash.  So I’m supposed to tweak your appearance and genetic structure just enough so that you are no longer technically related to one another.”  
   
Danny looked at Taylor; Taylor looked back at him.  They both looked at Panacea.  
   
“Wait, so he won’t be my dad any more?” asked Taylor.  “I’m not sure if I like that idea.”  
   
“He will still be the man who fathered you, and brought you up,” Panacea told her patiently, “but blood tests will never prove it.”  
   
“We are already planting rumours and evidence to be collected if anyone looks, that you were adopted,” said Director Piggot.  “Or that you were born from a dalliance your mother had before Danny and she were married.”  
   
They still looked dubious.  
   
“Maybe you should tell them the rest,” suggested Panacea.  Her entire attitude said,  _I’m not doing anything until this is dealt with._  
   
“Panacea will also be giving Taylor a hormone treatment, to effectively age your body slightly,” said the Director.  “This will bring your actual body shape in line with the padding you are currently wearing, and make you effectively eighteen, physically speaking.”  She paused.  “Your age has been advanced a little, legally speaking.  You are now officially sixteen.”  
   
“Will I feel different? Will I  _think_  differently?” asked Taylor worriedly.  
   
Panacea shook her head. “I don’t work with the brain at all. It will have to develop at its own speed.  And the body feels like it feels.  You won’t notice anything different.  Except your, uh, improved measurements.”    
   
Taylor said nothing, but she looked down at herself speculatively.  
   
Panacea smiled and turned to Danny.  “We’re not leaving you out,” she said.  “The plan is to de-age you by about ten to fifteen years, to bring you to about twenty-five equivalent, that being the age we’re suggesting Pathfinder to be.  Your external appearance will not change, though any grey hairs will grow back in black, and your baldness will begin to retreat.”    
   
She paused.  “And the Director has asked me to give you both a general tune-up; tone the muscles, remove excess body fat, deal with any minor health problems.”  
   
“So I’ll be eighteen and Dad – Pathfinder – will be twenty-five,” said Taylor.  “And we’ll basically be two new people.  And all the public facts about us have been changed to fit.”  She looked at the Director. “Why all this?  Why for us?”  
   
“Because you two are possibly the most useful and versatile recruits we have ever gotten,” said Piggot bluntly.  “I cannot emphasise this enough. We have gone through all this so that what you do in your private time is no longer legally or genetically wrong, in the hopes that you might consider continuing to work with us and for us for the foreseeable future.”  
   
“So ... once we’re no longer related ...” said Danny, “could Pathfinder and Compass Rose ... marry?”  
   
“And have children together, yes,” said Panacea.  “Happy, healthy children, free of any genetic flaws.”  
   
Danny cleared his throat. “I’ve had a vasectomy.”  
   
Panacea smiled.  “Not the hardest thing in the world for me to reverse.”  
   
Danny blinked.  “I gather not.”  He paused.  “Oh, one more thing.  You fixed my eyes, in the hospital.  Could you do the same thing for Taylor?”  
   
Panacea nodded.  “As easily as snapping your fingers. Easier, actually.  I never got the hang of that.”  
   
The Director looked at them over her desk.  “So, Danny, Taylor.  You now have the full details.  Do you agree to go through with this?”  
   
“I have one question,” said Danny.  He turned to Panacea. “What do you get out of this?  I thought you didn’t do requests.”  
   
Panacea smiled.  “I ... owe you ... just a little,” she said. “I’ll tell you how and why, later. But for the most part ...”  She grinned.  “Having the PRT owe you a really huge favour is a nice thing to have in the bank for a rainy day.”  
   
“Uh, I have a question, too,” said Taylor.  “How long will it take for my body to grow in?”  
   
“About a month,” said Panacea.  “Slow enough for it to look almost natural, fast enough to be over and done with in a reasonable time frame. Just so you know, those parts of your body which are undergoing increased development will be somewhat sensitive during that time.  And you will feel increased, hm, appetites during that time.”  
   
“So I’ll be eating a lot?” asked Taylor.  
   
Panacea smiled. “Yes, that too.”  
   
Taylor’s eyes widened slightly.  She met Danny’s gaze. They shared the same thought.   _Oh, boy_.    
   
“Anything else?” asked Panacea.  
   
“Ah, one more thing. A request,” said Taylor.  She leaned in to Panacea and whispered for a moment or two.    
   
Amy looked at her, one eyebrow raised.  “Really?”  
   
Taylor nodded, pink rising in her cheeks.  “Really.”  
   
Amy grinned. “Okay.  I can do that.”  
   
Taylor nodded. “Thanks.”  The pink colour was higher.  
   
Director Piggot frowned. “Is this something I need to know about ...?”  
   
Taylor shook her head in definitive negation.  “No, this is a very, very private and personal thing.  Nothing to do with being Compass Rose.”  
   
Piggot gave her a speculative look, then nodded.  “Very well. Carry on.”  
   
Panacea smiled. “Okay, who first?”  
   
Taylor raised her hand.  “Me?”  
   
Panacea looked at Danny, who shrugged.  “I can wait,” he said with a grin.  
   
She reached out to take Taylor’s hands.  “Ready?” she asked.    
   
Taylor nodded, suddenly nervous.  
   
Panacea breathed in deeply, then breathed out again.  Taylor felt ... she wasn’t sure what.  Her eyes were suddenly blurry; the glasses putting everything out of focus.  The rest of her body ... it was like warm water had just washed through her, changing everything ever so slightly.  Or maybe it was her imagination.  
   
She reached up, removed her glasses.  Everything was crystal clear.  
   
“”Wow,” she murmured. “This is awesome.”  
   
“You can get fake ones to wear in public,” said the Director.  “Keeps you in character as yourselves.”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Such a small change ...”  She looked at Panacea.  “And everything else went through okay?”  
   
Panacea grinned. “Everything,” she confirmed.  
   
Taylor nodded. “Well, I feel fine.  Dad, your turn.”  
   
Danny stepped forward and allowed Panacea to take his hands.  With a perfectly straight face, he said, “Please, be gentle with me.  It’s my first time.”  
   
Panacea had to sit down and recover from an attack of the giggles before she was able to continue. Taylor started laughing too, and even the Director could not conceal a smile.  But Danny was also soon given the treatment.  He didn’t even feel a thing.  
   
***  
   
“Well, if  there’s nothing else you need,” said Taylor, “we can be going now.”  
   
Director Piggot nodded. “We’ll forward the next batch of missing persons to your smart phone.”  
   
Taylor smiled.  “Sure. I’ll be sure to let the local police know where they are, if they’re in trouble.”  
   
“Every little bit helps,” agreed the Director.  
   
“Ready to go, kiddo?” asked Danny.  
   
Taylor smiled and turned to him.  Then she paused.  “So ... we’re legal now, is that it?”  
   
Director Piggot nodded.  
   
“Good,” said Taylor. “So I can do this.”  She put her arms around Danny’s neck and kissed him very thoroughly indeed.  He responded in kind, his arms around her body, his lips tightly pressed to hers. Purple-brown smoke billowed up to hide them, and when it dissipated, they were gone.  
   
Panacea cleared her throat to hide a laugh.  “I think we got to them just in time,” she observed with a grin.  
   
“So I see,” agreed the Director.  “And thank you once again for your assistance.”  She paused. “So .. why  _did_  you agree so readily to help them out?  What debt is this that you owe them?”  
   
Amy cleared her throat again.  “Let us just say ... they opened my eyes to some options.”  
   
Director Piggot looked at her searchingly; she saw Amy’s eyes cut across to the office door, where Glory Girl was leaning, chatting to the receptionist.  
   
Vicky felt Piggot’s gaze on her, turned, and said “What?”  
   
Director Piggot looked back to Amy, who blushed.  
   
“.... nothing,” said the Director.  
   
She watched the pair leave, then closed her office door firmly.   _Thank goodness Panacea fixed my kidneys,_  she said to herself as she opened the bottom drawer of her desk.   _Otherwise this might have killed me._  
   
She took out the bottle of bonded whiskey, poured herself a strong shot, and knocked it back.  It burned all the way down.  
   
 _Panacea and Glory Girl. Christ all-fucking-mighty._  
   
***  
   
Taylor and Danny lay in bed, gasping for breath, covered in sweat.  It was several hours later.  
   
“When she said she toned us up –“ panted Danny.  
   
“ – and brought you back to twenty-five –“ added Taylor.  
   
“ – she wasn’t kidding,” they finished in unison.  
   
“Oh god, I thought it was good before,” Taylor said.  
   
They lay, enjoying the afterglow, as the sweat cooled on their bodies, gently caressing and kissing one another.  
   
“My breasts will be larger,” she said with a secret smile.  “And my butt will be more than two slabs of muscle.”  She grinned.  “And talking about my butt ...”  
   
“Yes?” he asked.  
   
“She made it more elastic for me.  More sensitive, too.  So it’ll stretch more but squeeze tighter.”  
   
His eyes opened wide with interest.   _“Really?”_  
   
She smiled. “Really.”  Rolling up on to all fours, she presented her buttocks to him.  
   
He got up behind her, gripped her hips.  Prodded his suddenly-returned erection at her tight brown pucker.  She relaxed; it opened for him, and he slid inside. There was no pain, no discomfort, just tight, slick wetness.  He slid deeper and deeper into her tightest hole, all the way to the hilt.  
   
They spoke in unison. “Oh.  My.  Holy. God.”  
   
And then they  _really_  got down to business.  
   
***  
   
Vicky was at breakfast when Amy came trotting down the stairs.  She wore a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and a very cheerful expression. Sitting down next to her sister, she dived into her breakfast like she had been starving for a week.  
   
“Morning, Vicky,” she said happily.  “Ready for our da-“  
   
 _Oh Christ,_  thought Victoria,  _she’s gonna call it a ‘date’ in front of everyone._  
   
Amy giggled internally.  _Wouldn’t Vicky flip if I called it a ‘date’?_  
   
“-y out?” she finished saying.  
   
Glory Girl smiled at her sister.   _Crisis averted._  “Sure, Ames,” she said.  “So what have you got planned?”  
   
Amy grinned.   _“Everything,”_  she said, rather extravagantly.  
   
Mark nodded, from the head of the table.  “Good. Enjoy yourselves, girls.  We’ll call if we need an assist at anything.”  
   
Amy smiled at him. “Thanks, Dad,” she said.  “I’m  _so_  looking forward to this.”  
   
 _So am I,_  thought Victoria.   _How **about**  that?_  
   
***  
   
 **Coil: Universe A**  
  
“So what’s my role in all this again?” asked Miss Militia.    
   
“Basically, to let her know we’re serious,” said Taylor.  
   
“Also, to provide backup in the unlikely circumstance that this goes pear-shaped,” added Danny.  
   
“In civilian clothes?” said Miss Militia.  
   
Taylor smiled. “We’re going to talk to Tattletale, remember.  You could be wearing a  _burqua_  and she’d know who you were.”  
   
Miss Militia nodded. “In that case ... call me Hannah.”  
   
Taylor smiled. “Thanks for helping us out with this.”  
   
Hannah shrugged. “The Director has given your requests a priority rating.  And to be asked to a meeting with Tattletale has certain connotations; we want this to go smoothly.”  
   
Taylor nodded, and frowned. “I wonder why she hasn’t called yet?”  
   
***  
   
Lisa struggled against her bonds and screamed.  
   
“It will do you no good,” said Coil, stepping forward.  “You may as well save your breath for when I am actually asking questions.”  
   
Lisa gritted her teeth and struggled again.  She wasn’t a telepath; she  _knew_  she wasn’t a telepath.  All the same, she tried very hard indeed.   _Compass Rose, for God’s sake, look for me. Please._  
   
On the table before her lay a row of hypodermic syringes; the contents were generally a variation on the straw-yellow of blood serum, but she knew what each and every one of them would do to her.  And she was utterly  _terrified._  
   
Coil, of course, knew this. This was why he had had these needles laid out for her inspection.  For anyone else, he would have had to explain, in detail.  For her, he merely needed to hint.  Her power filled everything else in.  
   
“So,” he said.  “the questions.  You have recently encountered a pair of new parahumans called Pathfinder and Compass Rose.  They invaded your base, with enough force to capture you all, and yet left you alone and alive after the fact.  And just two days ago, you contacted them, asking for a meeting.”    
   
He leaned close to her. “I am very curious about these two. Please tell me all you know about Pathfinder and Compass Rose.  Most especially, any points of leverage which I may find ... useful.”  
   
Lisa spat in his face.  
   
He wiped the spittle off, and then turned to the guards.  “We will hold the syringes for now.  Untie her from the chair, strip her, and tie her across the table.  Take turns on her.  Do not touch her mouth.”  
   
Lisa screamed, uselessly.  
   
***  
   
 **Coil: Universe B**  
  
The picture was small and grainy, so he could not get a good look at the faces, but Lisa was definitely sitting down with two people who fitted the body types of Pathfinder and Compass Rose, and one other, a dark-skinned woman.  He didn’t know her.  
   
This was the irritation at trying to get around Tattletale’s power; if he tried to get a minion any closer, or used a larger pickup, she would get a hint, and it would be all over.  
   
But he knew she was meeting with them, and knowledge was a lever.  
   
***  
   
“I never wanted to be in the Undersiders,” said Lisa.  
   
“What?” asked Taylor. She sucked at her milkshake. “Why don’t you leave, then?”  
   
“One reason,” said Lisa. “Coil.”  
   
Taylor’s eyes went unfocused as she tried to get a read on that name.  Suddenly, she had it; crime lord, never did anything big himself, contracted out to others.  
   
“Tall, skinny guy, wears a black costume with a white snake on it?” she asked.  
   
Tattletale looked at her with respect.  “Christ, that was fast.”  
   
Taylor smiled slightly. “You do some pretty amazing things too.”  
   
Lisa shrugged slightly. “Can you get a read on his location?”  
   
Taylor grinned.  “To the metre.  He’s in some sort of base.  I’m getting the impression of metal catwalks.”  
   
“Well, he had me coerced into the Undersiders at gunpoint.  He knows what I can do.  If I try to leave, he’ll have me killed.  And I’m terrified he’ll just kidnap me one day and keep me prisoner to answer questions for him.”  
   
Danny, sitting at the next table with Hannah, blinked.  “Christ. That shit  _happens?”_  
   
Hannah put her hand on his. “More often than you would think, Danny.”  
   
Danny blinked again, this time at her hand, resting on his.  Then he looked at her face.  
   
She smiled slightly at him.  
   
“I –“ he said lamely.  
   
“You love Taylor,” she said softly.  “But can you not love more than one?”  
   
He didn’t answer. But nor did he withdraw his hand.  
  
***  
   
“Oh hey,” said Amy. “There’s Taylor and Danny.”  
   
“Who?” asked Victoria. She was wearing a brightly-coloured sundress, and holding hands with her sister, as agreed.  
   
It was a nice feeling, to be honest.  To be out on a carefree day with the person she loved the most – in a platonic sense, of course – and who loved her, to have fun, to enjoy the sights.  To hold hands.  
   
She knew at the end of the day that she would be giving Amy a kiss.  She accepted this; it was a not too onerous price to be paid for a fun day out.  
   
They had already gone through the merchant stalls; ice creams had been purchased and consumed, and Vicky had bought Amy a necklace comprising of coloured seashells of various types.  Amy had gotten for Vicky a pair of earrings, each with a brass “G” dangling from it.  Each wore the other’s present proudly.  
   
Giving things to each other was  _fun_.  
   
***  
   
Taylor looked up as she saw Amy waving.  Sitting up, she waved back.  
   
“Have you met Amy and Vicky?” she asked.  “Panacea and Glory Girl?”  
   
“Not officially,” said Lisa with a grin.  She turned to look at the pair just arriving, and blinked.  
   
 _Shit, these **too?**_  she asked herself.   _Is it something in the water?  Good thing **I** don’t have any relatives in Brockton Bay._  
   
“Hey, how’s it going?” asked Amy as she came up.  Taylor stood, and they hugged warmly.  
   
“Really, really,  _really_  good,” grinned Taylor.  Lisa heard the tone, connected the dots, and blushed scarlet.  
   
 _I did not need to know about **that.**   I really didn’t._  
   
***  
   
The Dallon girls chatted for a little while longer, then said their goodbyes and headed off, still hand in hand.  
   
Taylor, looking after them, sighed.  “Poor Amy,” she said softly.  “She does love her sister so much.  And Vicky doesn’t even know.”  
   
Lisa grinned.  “Oh, I think she knows  _now,”_  she told Taylor.  
   
Danny raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t look too upset.”  
   
Lisa grinned wider. “She  _thinks_  she’s upset.  This is changing.”  
   
Both of Taylor’s eyebrows went up.  “Oh.  Oh my.”  
   
Lisa smirked.  “Oh, yes.”  
   
***  
   
 **Coil: Universe A**  
  
Lisa’s voice had gone from screams of outrage to whimpers of pain, and she was slumped over the table, sobbing, as the last guard tucked himself away and zipped up.  Blood ran down her thighs from her violated vagina and rectum.  
   
“Put her back in the chair,” ordered Coil.  “Now, let us see if the needles will be of any use.”  
   
***  
   
Taylor’s phone rang. She snatched it up. “Tattletale?” she said.  
   
 _“No, this is Grue,”_  she heard.   _“You know, the darkness guy?”_  
   
“I know who you are,” said Taylor, his image filling her mind.  “Why are you calling?  I’m waiting on a call from Tattletale.”  
   
 _“She’s disappeared,_ ” he said, his voice full of worry.   _“And she left a note; if she vanished, to call you.”_  
   
Taylor’s hand gripped Danny’s as her eyes unfocused.  
   
“Oh Christ!” she blurted. “She’s being tortured!”  
   
She stood up, dragging Danny with her.  She dropped the phone; it puffed into smoke, reappeared in Danny’s free hand.  He dropped it on the desk.  She grabbed Miss Militia’s arm with her other hand, drove the knowledge of a location into Danny’s mind.  They appeared next to Grue, who was still holding the phone to his ear.  Danny grabbed him.  They went again.  
   
***  
   
Coil held up a syringe, tapped it with his fingertip.  “You  _know_  what this will do,” he murmured.  “Tell me, and all the pain will go away.”  
   
Lisa sobbed, not even able to hold her head up.  Her vagina and anus hurt terribly.  The guards had not been gentle.  “Compass Rose and Pathfinder ...”  
   
He stepped closer. “Yes?”  
   
In the corner of the room, purple-brown smoke billowed.  Almost instantly, darkness washed out to fill the room.  
   
 _“Are here,”_  grated Lisa, lurching forward to sink her teeth into his wrist.  He screamed and dropped the syringe.  
   
Miss Militia could not see. But she felt Taylor grab her hand. “Pistol,” said Taylor.  There was a pistol in her hand.  Taylor guided her aim, squeezed her hand.  Miss Militia squeezed the trigger.  Again.  And again.  
   
Six muffled pops, six men went down, each shot in the centre of the face.  
   
“I’ve got Coil!” snarled Grue.   _He_  could see perfectly, of course.  
   
Coil wrenched his wrist clear of Lisa’s teeth.  He considered drawing his pistol and shooting her, but she would just lean out of the way.  
   
And then a battering-ram smashed into his face.  
   
Coil could not see, did not know what was happening.  His best guess was that two or three men, all experts in martial arts, were using him as a practise dummy.  But it was just Grue.  Trained in boxing, fighting mad.    
   
He got Coil up against the wall of the cell, even as Taylor got Lisa out of the chair, and proceeded to coldly and scientifically beat him to death.  
   
***  
   
 **Coil: Universe B**  
  
Coil shut that universe down.  
   
 _What the fuck just **happened?**_  he asked himself.  
   
He recalled sudden darkness.   _Grue._  
   
The muffled pops of shooting.   _No-one can see through Grue’s darkness except him.  He must have had a gun._  
   
The hammer-blows that rained on him, beat him down, gave him no respite.   _Grue again._  
  
 _How did he get into the cell?_  
  
 _Compass Rose and Pathfinder?_  
   
He was suddenly aware that he knew far too little of the situation.  
   
And there, on the screen, Lisa sat, talking to them.  
   
 _What is she telling them?_  
   
He had no idea.  
   
He began to feel very worried indeed.  
   
***  
   
“Would you come with me, to speak to Director Piggot, about Coil?” asked Taylor.  
   
“What, like this, unmasked?” said Lisa.  
   
“If you intend to leave the Undersiders anyway ...” said Danny encouragingly.  
   
Lisa tilted her head. “You pose a valid point.  Let’s go.”  
   
***  
   
Coil watched them stand, clasp hands, and disappear in a billow of smoke.  But there was something, just before they had vanished ...  
   
He played it back.  
   
 _Fuck, she knew he was there all the time._  
   
***  
   
“Why did you do that?” asked Taylor curiously.  
   
“Do what?” asked Lisa innocently.  
   
“Give the finger to midair, just before we went.”  
   
Lisa grinned.  “Oh, no reason.”  
   
They entered Director Piggot’s office.  The Director looked up.  “Your meeting was – oh.”  
   
“Director Piggot,” said Danny formally.  “This is Tattletale.”  
   
“Otherwise known as Lisa Wilbourn,” offered Lisa.  
   
“Interesting,” said the Director urbanely.  “The name we had for you was Sarah Livsey.”  
   
Tattletale looked at Taylor.  “Compass Rose indeed, huh?” Taylor grinned at her.  
   
Director Piggot frowned, covering papers up.  “Did you have to bring her here?” she asked.  “She’s a highly dangerous Thinker.”  
   
“She’s offering us Coil on a plate,” said Miss Militia.  “Or rather, the names of his men.”  
   
“Which we can use to pull them out and dump them in cells,” said Taylor.  “And Coil himself, too, of course.”  
   
“So what do we need her for?” asked the Director.  
   
“I know stuff you don’t,” said Lisa with her fox-like grin.  
   
“Such as ...?”  
   
Lisa shook her head. “Play ball.  Give me something to go for.  I don’t want to be an ex-Undersider.  I want something to move into.”  
   
Piggot sighed.   _“Fine_.  A provisional membership in the Wards.  Good enough?”  
   
Lisa nodded.  “Good enough.  His real name is Thomas Calvert.  And he’s got men all the way through the PRT.”  
   
The Director’s eyes went very wide indeed.  “You had better be  _fucking_  kidding.  I’ve known Calvert for years.”  
   
Lisa shook her head. “Total disclosure.  That’s his name.”  
   
Director Piggot looked at Taylor.  She blinked twice, and said, “It’s him.  It’s Coil.”  
   
“Shit,” snarled the Director.  “All the stuff he knows ... who and where are his men in the PRT?”  
   
“I don’t know their names,” said Tattletale, “but I’ll know ‘em when I see ‘em.”  
   
“And I’ll know where they are and what they’re doing,” put in Taylor.  
   
Piggot smiled coldly. “Well then,” she said.  “Let’s see how good you two are.”  
   
She pulled up the personnel files for the local PRT and turned the screen toward them.  
   
And thus the war began.


	16. The Silent War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coil and the PRT fight a silent war for supremacy. Coil has surprise; the PRT has Compass Rose, Pathfinder, and Tattletale. Vicky and Amy conclude their date.

It was a very  _quiet_  war.  
  
 *******  
  
 **Universe 1:**  
   
Amy and Victoria, still walking along the Boardwalk, still hand in hand, were utterly unaware of it.  
   
In fact, most people people in Brockton Bay were unaware of it.  
   
It took place in two locations, separated by several miles; each was equally secure, in its own way. But that security meant nothing against infiltrators from within.  
   
And there were casualties.  
   
Many, many casualties.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 2:**  
   
Thomas Calvert left his base, got into his unassuming car, started the drive home.  He decided that a nice quiet restful night at home would do him the world of good.  And if the attack on the PRT building went bad, he would try something else tomorrow.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 1:**  
   
It started slowly.  
   
Director Piggot turned the screen of her desk computer toward Lisa and Taylor.  Taylor took a firm grip of her father’s hand.  
   
Taylor took in the screen at a glance; each picture expanded into a mental image of a man or woman in PRT uniform, at their workstation or in casual clothes at home.  Or, in one case, in an underground location.  She  _knew_  that location.  
   
“That one’s one, isn’t he?” she asked, pointing.  
   
Lisa nodded.  “And this one, this one, this one, this one and this one.”  She grabbed the mouse, highlighted the appropriate ones, including Taylor’s choice.  
   
Director Piggot blinked. “How did you know that one, Compass Rose?” she asked.  
   
Taylor shrugged. “He’s in Coil’s base.”  
   
“You know where that is, for certain?” asked Piggot sharply.  
   
Taylor nodded. “Sure.  I know where Coil is, and it’s an underground location.”  She moved to a wall map.  “Here.”  Her nail made a tiny indentation on the paper.  
   
Piggot stared at the location.  “Damn.  Right.”  She took a deep breath.  “Okay, let’s keep going.”  
   
She showed them screen after screen, and Lisa kept picking them, and Taylor kept locating them.  
   
And then Taylor raised her head.  “That one there just got a phone call,” she said.  
   
Director Piggot frowned. “And?” she asked.  
   
“And Coil just made a phone call,” Taylor clarified.  “Sorry.” She paused again.  “And now this guy’s working on his computer.  Typing something in.”  
   
“Can you tell what?” asked Miss Militia.  
   
Taylor shook her head. “Sorry, I can only just about tell it’s a computer.”  
   
“I don’t think we should let him –“ began Miss Militia ... and then the room went dark, as did the computer screen.  
   
“Shit!” snapped Director Piggot.  
   
There was a knocking on the door.  “Director?” shouted a voice. “Are you all right in there?”  
   
Lisa put her hand on Miss Militia’s shoulder.  “Hostile,” she murmured.  
   
The door opened; Miss Militia fired an assault rifle from the shoulder.  The man, a PRT officer from the uniform, fell to the ground. His gun fell beside him.  
   
“What the hell? What’s going on?” came shouts from the outer office.  
   
“We have to go, now!” snapped Lisa.  
   
“Dad!” said Taylor, and grabbed Miss Militia’s shoulder.  Lisa grabbed her arm.  Danny grabbed the Director.  Taylor gave him a location.  He went there.  
   
Two seconds after the cloud of purple-brown smoke dissipated, two grenades bounced in through the open door, and made rather a mess of the room.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 2:**  
   
Thomas Calvert stopped at the lights and waited for them to change.  
   
In Director Piggot’s office, Taylor and Lisa had finished identifying and locating the moles in the Brockton Bay PRT.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 1:**  
   
They were in the armoury. It was dark.  Miss Militia’s assault rifle grew a tactical light. She splashed it around the room. “What are we looking for?”  
   
“Grenades,” said Taylor grimly.  She saw them, dragged Danny toward them.  She raised her head.  “Some of them are shooting your loyal soldiers.  They know who they are, the loyal guys don’t.”  She looked at the grenades.  “Which are lethal, which just knockout?”  
   
Director Piggot pointed. “Flash-bang, frag, smoke, tear gas.”  
   
Danny nodded.  “Good enough.”  
   
Taylor grabbed a flash-bang, pulled the pin, handed it to her father.  Gripped his hand.  The grenade disappeared in a puff of smoke.  She grabbed a frag grenade, pulled the pin, handed it to him, held his hand.  It went.  
   
Again, and again, and again, they repeated the process.  And Miss Militia and Director Piggot watched, and wondered.  And Lisa watched, and knew.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 2:**  
   
Director Piggot made phone calls.  And at the end of each call, a PRT officer looked blankly at the phone, then stood up and moved to a colleague. Quiet words were exchanged.  They moved in on another colleague.  Plastic cuffs were utilised.  It was all very quiet, very clean.  No-one managed to raise the alarm.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 1:**  
   
At first, Coil’s men, throughout the PRT tower, had it all their way.  He started the ball rolling with a single phone call.  “Decapitate.”  
   
The man who received the call opened a window on his workstation, typed in an access code he certainly should not have been using, and then typed in a command that should not have worked.  Power went out in certain parts of the building, including Director Piggot’s office, and the electronic locks for the armoury, and the Wards part of the tower.  
   
All around the PRT tower, men and women received that same word on their pagers or phone. Carefully calculated acts of sabotage were followed by turning on their fellow officers.  
   
One man was supposed to enter Director Piggot’s office and kill everyone there; Lisa and Miss Militia foiled that aspect of the plan.  His backup tried to carry out the plan with grenades; fortunately, that didn’t work either.  
   
The loyal PRT troops, where they were not massacred immediately, found their radios jammed, their friends turning on them, and their options vanishing.  
   
And then grenades started going off.  Flash-bangs where there was the chance of friendly casualties, frag grenades where the enemy was behind a barricade.  Men started falling, others died.  The loyal PRT troops rallied, fought back.  Took back their tower.  And all the while, they were supported by a loyal, if invisible, ally that placed loaded weapons at their feet and live grenades at their enemies’.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 2:**  
   
Thomas Calvert still didn’t know anything was amiss.  He certainly didn’t know that teams of PRT men were being teleported into his base, and his own mercenaries were being disarmed and taken into custody.  
   
He turned into his street.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 1:**  
   
Lisa sat at the workstation of the original traitor.  She typed away rapidly, inputting commands faster than Taylor could follow.  Not that she was following what Lisa was doing. She had her hand in Danny’s, and she was watching Coil.  
   
Director Piggot looked dubiously at where Lisa worked at the computer.  “Not sure I like the idea of her in our system,” she muttered.  
   
“She saved all our lives,” Miss Militia countered.  
   
“She saved  _her_  life,” retorted Piggot.  
   
“She’s the best chance we’ve got of fixing whatever they did to the system.”  
   
At that moment, the screen cleared, and Lisa pushed back from the workstation.  “That should do it.”  
   
Miss Militia raised her radio.  “All surviving units, this is Miss Militia.  Report by section.”  
   
The radio crackled, and voices started reporting in.  They sounded weary, scared, confused, shocked.  But they reported.  
   
When the last voice fell silent, Miss Militia and Director Piggot shared a glance.  “That’s bad,” said Miss Militia.  “That’s really bad.”  
   
Piggot nodded.  “It is.  Coil’s just hit us really hard.  Now we hit him back.”  
   
Taylor paused.  “Coil and his men seem to be ready for a teleporter attack.  He has them bunched up, aiming their guns in all directions.”  
   
Piggot frowned.  “I really want to interrogate Calvert. Find out how long this has been going on, how deep his tentacles go.”  
   
“I can help with some of that,” said Lisa.  “Deep. Very deep.”  
   
Taylor had Danny drop a flash-bang in the middle of the men clustered around Coil; one of them kicked it, and it went over the edge of the catwalk, and detonated somewhere below.  
   
“They’re prepared for that, too,” she said.  
   
Danny said, “Smoke grenades to use as cover.”  
   
“Could work,” said Taylor.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 2:**  
   
Thomas Calvert pulled into his driveway and parked his car.  
   
He got out, unlocked his front door, and walked inside.  
   
From there, he performed a normal routine, almost as if he expected to be under surveillance.  
   
Taylor kept watching him. Compass Rose and Pathfinder teleported groups of PRT men around Coil’s base, picking Coil’s minions off before they could raise the alarm.  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 1:**  
   
“Move toward the exit,” said Coil.  “Full teleport protocol.”  
   
The men moved in unison, scanning the surroundings, guns up, ready.  They’d trained for scenarios like this.  
   
It didn’t mean that they’d  _win_ , of course, but they had a better chance than someone who wasn’t prepared.  
   
When the smoke grenades clattered to the catwalk on either side of them, they fired into the smoke. They weren’t prepared for tear gas grenades to fall from the air above them, already trailing noxious fumes.  
   
Within moments, they were all helpless.  PRT men teleported into place around them, wearing gas masks.  Coil was taken into custody along with his men.  
   
A puff of purple-brown smoke later, and Coil stood before Director Piggot.  She stepped forward, pulled at his mask.  It was of a piece with his costume; it didn’t come off.  
   
And then suddenly, in a puff of smoke, the entire costume was gone; Pathfinder held it, limp, in his hands. Thomas Calvert, in his underwear, stood before Piggot.  
   
Piggot looked up at Calvert.  “I  _trusted_  you,” she hissed.  She nodded to the guards. “Take him away.  This one goes to the Birdcage.  He knows too much about the PRT.”  
   
***  
   
 **Universe 2:**  
   
Coil swore to himself, and shut down that universe.  His cover blown, his base compromised.   _I’m really going to have to do sometihng about Compass Rose and Pathfinder.  And Lisa._  
   
He picked up his phone, and called his base.  
   
No-one answered.  
   
He frowned.   ** _Someone_** _should be on duty._  
   
He called again.  
   
He was just starting to realise that something was wrong when the PRT kicked in his front door.  
   
***  
   
It really was a very quiet war.  
   
***  
   
Director Piggot’s face bore an expression akin to that of the cat which, having ingested a whole aviary full of canaries, has discovered a lake of cream all for itself.  
   
She positively  _beamed_  at Lisa, Taylor and Danny.  Miss Miltia stood off to the side, at parade rest.  
   
“Coil is in custody,” she said.  “He will be interrogated, thoroughly, and then sent to the Birdcage.  He knows too much about the PRT to be allowed to stay loose and alive.”  
   
She allowed an expression of distaste to cross her face.  “He was my  _friend_ ,” she said.  “I  _trusted_  him.”  
   
Danny nodded sympathetically.  “Believe me, we know what it’s like to find out that our friends are less than friendly.”  He took Taylor in his arms; she hugged him back.  
   
Director Piggot nodded. “I see your point.”  Her face assumed the previous beatific expression. “Thanks to you three, we have managed to take an entire criminal organisation, and its very elusive boss, out of circulation with hardly anyone the wiser.”  
   
Lisa looked at her. “And he won’t be let free?”  
   
Piggot shook her head. “No chance.”  
   
Lisa nodded sharply.  _“Good.”_  
   
Taylor let go of Danny and hugged her sympathetically.  “I might not have been under sentence of death, but I sort of know ...” she began.  
   
“I know you do,” agreed Lisa.  “And what you’ve been through ... I’m not surprised you turned to your father for comfort.  I’m really not.”  
   
Taylor smiled, drawing Danny’s arms about her.  “I could not live without him,” she said softly.  “He’s kept me alive twice now.”  
   
Lisa looked Danny in the face.  “Well, I’m glad you did,” she said.  “I don’t know where I could have turned.”  
   
“Well,” said Director Piggot, “you still have the offer for a provisional place in the Wards.”  
   
Lisa smiled.  “You know,” she said.  “I think I’ll take it.”  
   
Taylor held up her hand; Lisa gave her a high-five.  
   
“Louie,” said Danny, affecting a rougher accent, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”  
   
Taylor looked at him, puzzled.  Lisa smirked.  Director Piggot burst out laughing.  
   
   
 _[Author's Note: This ends the 'introduction' of Pathfinder and Compass Rose to the Protectorate.  Further stories will be set later on, once they've had a chance to settle in, and Taylor's mods have taken.]_  
  
 _[And just an epilogue ...]_  
  
***  
   
Amy giggled as the credits rolled.  
   
“That was a very silly movie,” she said.  
   
“It was,” agreed Victoria. “But I enjoyed it.”  
   
Amy nodded.  “So did I.”  She took Vicky’s and and squeezed it.  “Thanks for coming out today with me.  You really made my day.  My  _week.”_  
   
Vicky squeezed back. “I had a really good time too,” she admitted.  “The Boardwalk was a lot of fun. And dinner was a blast. Seriously, where did you learn all those dirty jokes?  I laughed so hard thought I was going to wet myself.”  
   
Amy giggled again. “You should listen in on doctors when they think they’re alone,” she confided.  “They have the  _roughest_  sense of humour.”  
   
They walked out of the cinema, chatting happily together.  Hand in hand; it was natural to Victoria by now.  Her sister’s hand in hers, together, warm, caring.  
   
She had never felt so close to Amy in a very long time.  
   
She paused near a shaded corner, out of the main street, and drew Amy into it.    
   
“I had a really, really, really nice time tonight, Ames,” she said softly.  “And you were good, and never made even one pass at me.”  
   
Amy smiled up at her. “To be honest, Vicky,” she said, “I was having so much fun I didn’t even think about it.”  
   
Vicky nodded.  “And nor did I.  Until just now.  So yes, this has been a date.  And I enjoyed it very much.”  
   
Amy looked up at her.  "So ...?"  
  
Vicky smiled.  "So you get your kiss."  
  
She scooped Amy into her arms and they lifted into the air; higher and higher they flew, until all of Brockton Bay was spread out beneath them.  Vicky flew northwest, landing on the lookout on top of Captain's Hill.  She let Amy down to her feet, then stood there, looking at her.  
  
"I'm here" she said softly.  "We're in the most romantic spot in Brockton Bay.  We're alone."  She smiled.  "You can kiss me just as hard as you want.  You've earned it."  
  
Amy leaned close to Vicky, who put an arm around her.  Brockton Bay sparkled beneath them.  Moonlight made a silvery path to the horizon.  Vicky had brought her  _here_  for the kiss.  She felt a great surge of love and affection for her sister.  
  
She put her arms around Vicky's neck and drew her face down to hers.  Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips to Vicky's.    
  
***  
  
Vicky let her sister draw her down into the kiss.  This meant so much to Amy; she was willing to give her sister a great deal, to make her happy.  A kiss?  Not so much in the grand scheme of things.  Even a little tongue?  Sure, she could pretend Amy was Dean, just for this kiss.  
  
Their lips met.  
  
***  
  
Amy felt Vicky's lips part and her tongue willingly enter Amy's mouth, even as Amy's tongue slid into Vicky's.  The feeling was sensual, sexual, amazingly arousing.  She moaned and moved her body against Victoria's.  Her arms pulled Victoria harder into the kiss, more demanding.  
  
***  
  
Victoria felt Amy's tongue in her mouth, and was amazed by the sensual, arousing thrill that shot through her.  Amy moaned; she felt her sister's body moving against her, breasts pressing against one another.  Strange sensations were flashing through her body, warmth and light-headedness.  She pressed her thigh between Amy's legs, rubbing against her groin.  
  
***  
  
Amy felt Vicky's leg rubbing against her, and pressed herself hard on to it.  She kissed Vicky harder.  Vicky responded.  
  
***  
  
By the time they separated from the kiss, they were both breathing hard.  
   
"Oh my god," whispered Amy.  
  
"Oh my god is right," panted Victoria.  
  
"I have no idea what's happening," said Amy, but I think I like it."  
  
"Oh, I know what's happening," Vicky assured her.  "And I had no idea that you could kiss that good."  
  
"So ... you're attracted to me then?" asked Amy.  
  
"I ... guess," said Victoria.  "And I have no idea how to handle that."  She shrugged.  "I mean, I guess, we could just jump into bed and get it over with."  
  
Amy was incredibly temped, but shook her head.  "No," she said softly.  
  
Vicky stared at her.  "No?" she asked.  
  
"No," reiterated Amy.  "We'll take this one step at a time.  One date at a time.  Otherwise, it could get really, really weird between us.  So no sex.  Not to start with.  Let's just get used to the idea first, okay?"  
  
"Okay," said Vicky meekly.  Amy hugged her.  
  
They kissed again.  It was just as good as the first time.  
  
For the longest time, they stood, arms tightly about each other, looking out over the sleeping city.  
  
"So ... another date next Saturday?" asked Vicky at last.  "Or is that too soon?"  
  
Amy smiled and snuggled into her sister's embrace.  "No," she said.  "It's not too soon."


	17. Integrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny and Taylor discuss potential sexual partners; Taylor settles in with the Wards. Amy's relationship with Vicky proceeds apace.

Taylor lay back on the bed with a pillow under her hips, and her ass cocked upward. Her legs were raised and spread wide, her ankles on Danny’s shoulders. Atop her, Danny slid his penis in and out between her buttocks, thrusting deep and hard with every stroke.  She gasped encouragement to him, rubbing her clitoris and labia as he did so.  
   
She was wearing a spare costume she had requested from the PRT; this one, just a thin covering of cloth that stretched tightly over her newly-improved figure, had cutouts in certain strategic places.  One was over her enlarged breasts, currently tipped with very swollen nipples.  Another was over her vagina and ass, uncovering them for Danny’s delectation and ravishment.  
   
Danny wore his Pathfinder helmet, without the mouthpiece, and the long coat and shirt. He wore nothing from the waist down, except his boots.  
   
He slid his long erection in and out of her, to her gasping delight and steadily mounting arousal, as his lips and tongue and teeth found her swollen breasts and prominent nipples, and excited them beyond all measure.  
   
He experienced the pleasure that she got from this, and from his penetration of her tightest orifice, and she felt the arousal that he felt from her tightness around his thrusting penis.  The forbidden delight of making love in costume also added to their ever-increasing arousal.  
   
He pumped into her harder and harder, his hips thrusting energetically, until she began to climax, crying his name, clenching herself around him.  Her orgasm triggered his own, and he arched his back, driving himself hard into her, which drew another devastating climax from her.  His long cock spurted, blasting his seed into her, filling her bowels with his hot white semen, as he kept thrusting, kept pumping, kept coming.  
   
Under him, she came again and again, their mutual orgasm lifting them to a level of pleasure that they had never known before they gained their powers.  
   
Finally, however, they slumped on to the bed together; he reluctantly pulled his softening penis from between her now very shapely buttocks, and she lowered her legs to the bed.  Reaching down, she pulled the pillow from under her hips, rolled over, and put her arms around her father.  
   
She kissed him tenderly, lovingly.  
   
He teleported their costume pieces from them, and they snuggled naked on the bed, bodies loosely entwined, touching each other with gentle caresses.  
   
“That was wonderful,” she murmured.  “You really like the costume with the cutouts, huh?”  
   
He grinned and kissed her.  “Just a little.”  To tell the truth, Taylor’s new body had the ability to excite him even more than she had before.  She was firm, and rounded, and curved in all the right places.  
   
During the growing phase, there had been nights – and days – where they had not done much more than make love.  She had been demanding, forever horny, needful of his attentions.  More than once, she had made him excuse himself from a meeting so that he could take her to a private location and drive her to orgasm once again.  
   
Not that he had complained – god no!  He had enthusiastically participated.  Repeatedly, and with variations.  But in a way, he was glad that it was over, and they were back to their usual level of wild passionate love-making.  On the upside, her newly developed body made it even better for the both of them.  
   
She snuggled into him, loving and warm.  He held her close, protectively.  
   
“So,” he murmured.  “How are things with the Wards?”  
   
She giggled.  “It was a little awkward with Aegis and Gallant for a bit there,” she admitted.  “But we talked it out.”  
   
“Okay, Aegis I can understand,” he said.  “But why Gallant?”  
   
***  
   
Taylor entered the Wards’ common area, already unstrapping and pulling off her helmet.  Aegis was just heading for the door.  She nodded and smiled at him. He nodded back, a slightly strained look on his face.  
   
“Carlos,” she said, stopping.  “Can we talk?”  
   
He hesitated, but his natural honesty won out.  
   
“Sure,” he said.  “What about?”  
   
Taylor drew him to one side.  “I know you’re never going to say anything,” she said quietly, “and I know you vouched for me being in the Wards, but there’s still a problem between you and me, isn’t there?”  
   
He hesitated, and then hung his head.  “I’m sorry, Taylor,” he said.  “I can’t ... stop thinking about it.  About the fact that you and your father ...”  He trailed off, pain on his face.  
   
“Hey,” she said softly, drawing him into a hug.  He stiffened at first, then accepted it.  “This is me.  This is Taylor.  I’m not some monster. Yes, I have a strong sexual relationship with Pathfinder.  But he’s not my biological father.”  
   
Aegis frowned at her.  “But –“  
   
She grinned at him.  “Director Piggot called in Panacea.  She tweaked our genes.  Even if he got me pregnant tomorrow – which he won’t, but even if – the child would be perfectly healthy, the product of two totally unrelated people.”  
   
Aegis blinked.  “She can  _do_  that?”  
   
Taylor giggled.  “Took me by surprise too. But she can, and she did.  And now, even if people put two and two together, they will never be able to prove it.”  She paused.  “So, even if I call him Dad from time to time, we are identical to a twenty-five year old man, with his eighteen year old girlfriend, indulging in a harmless incest fantasy.”  
   
Aegis looked taken aback.  “She did all  _that_  for you?”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Oh yeah.  Apparently she likes having the PRT owe her big-time.”  
   
He whistled softly.  “And how.” He paused.  “So you and Pathfinder are no longer related in any way – technically speaking, that is.”  
   
She shook her head.  “Nope. No more than you and I are.”  
   
He shook his head in turn.  “And you were willing for this to be done to you?”  
   
She nodded earnestly.  “If it meant that I could be with him, yes.”  
   
“Damn,” he said.  “I’m gonna have to think about this.”  He gave her an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry about how I’ve acted toward you.  I’ll try to do better in future.”  
   
She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “It’s fine,” she promised.  “And thanks for listening.”  
   
She strolled off; he watched her go, admiring her rear view just a bit.  
   
 _Compass Rose and Pathfinder have done so much since they joined the Protectorate,_  he told himself.   _This was my last sticking point, and now it’s gone.  She’s just another girl; he’s just another man.  Who they used to be is not important._  
  
Feeling somewhat lighter of spirit, he exited the Wards area.  
   
***  
   
“Hey,” said Gallant to Taylor.  
   
“Oh, hey, Dean,” she greeted him.  “How are you?”  
   
"Um, fine," he said.    
   
She looked closely at him.  "Dean ... Is something the matter?"  
   
He drew a deep breath, and gave her an agonised look.  "Can we talk?  Please?"  
   
She raised an eyebrow.  "Sure. What's this about?"  
   
He guided her off to the side; she frowned, starting to suspect what he wanted to talk about.   _Are we **never**  going to get past this? _she thought despairingly.  
   
When he spoke, her fears were realised.  "It's about you and Pathfinder."  
   
Her frown deepened.  "Seriously?  Has Aegis been talking to you? Director Piggot assured us that it was going to be kept totally secret.".  _I thought better of Carlos_ , she thought.  
   
He shook his head.  "No, he didn't tell me.  I told Armsmaster."  
   
Now she was totally confused.  "... what?"  
   
He took a deep breath.  "I read emotions.  You know that.  When we first met you, I ... read emotions coming off you and your dad.  Emotions that a teenage girl and her father really should not be having for each other."  
   
She shot him a sharp glance.  His tone did not seem to be accusing;  he appeared to be more embarrassed than angry.  "So  _you're_  the reason they found out," she said, her voice flat.  
   
His eyes were troubled.  "I  _had_  to," he said, his voice pleading. "Hurting you or your father was the last thing I wanted to do.  But as Compass Rose and Pathfinder, you're going to be high profile, and your ... relationship would be far more likely to be exposed, by people who might try to blackmail you, or just hurt the PRT and the Protectorate with the information."  
   
"So you told Armsmaster.   _Without_  telling us.". Her voice was still flat.  
   
He could read her emotions, tell that she wasn't as angry as she was making out. But she still wasn't overly pleased with him.  
   
"Look, I'm not trying to justify myself," he said.  “I know that I went behind your backs, and I was a dick for doing it that way.  I just wanted ... to let you know who it was who did this to you, and why.  Make sure you know I wasn’t being malicious about it.”  
   
Taylor pressed her lips together.  “Yes,” she said, “you were a dick.  But it turned out all right in the end, so … I guess.  You get a free pass this time.”  
   
He read off her emotion of amused exasperation, and breathed an internal sigh of relief.  “Thanks,” he said.  “I was really feeling bad about it.”  
   
“You should,” she said seriously.  “It could have turned out a lot worse.  But it’s all been fixed, and Dad and I are doing better than ever.”  She smiled.  _“Really_  better than ever.”  
   
It was his turn to raise his eyebrows.  “Based on what I can feel rolling off you now, I am not going to ask any questions. Hands off this subject.”  He closed his eyes for just a moment, then opened them.  “Okay, just one more.”  A long pause.  “Your father and you?   _Really?”_  
   
She shook her head.  “He’s not my biological father.  Let’s just say I was adopted at a really young age.  We’re not actually related in any way.”  
   
One eyebrow stayed up.  “You  _do_  know I can read emotions.  It’s not perfect, but it’s a good lie detector.”  
   
She smiled at him.  “Ask Aegis.  Ask Armsmaster.  Ask Director Piggot, if you dare.  They’ll tell you the same thing.”  
   
And in that statement, he read absolute belief in what she had just said.  
   
 _Right,_  he thought.   _A subject better left alone._  
   
“Well,” he said, “I guess that’s pretty well all said and done.  Sorry I caused you problems.”  
   
She shook her head.  “Not a problem, really,” she said.  She paused.  “Thanks for letting me know, actually.  Dad and I couldn’t figure out how we’d slipped.”  
   
He shrugged slightly, went to move off.  
   
“Dean,” she said.  
   
He stopped, and looked at her questioningly. “I’m no emotion reader, but you’ve got the looks of someone with something bothering them, and it’s not just me and Dad.  What’s up?”  
   
He shook his head.  “It’s nothing, really.  It’s just that I think Vicky’s gonna split up with me again.”  
   
“Really?” she asked.  
   
He nodded unhappily.  “Yeah.  She hasn’t gone out with me on a Saturday night for a month now, and the other dates she’s had with me, it’s like she wasn’t really there.  Just passing the time with me because it was expected.”  
   
“So, did you ask her about this?” Taylor pressed.  
   
He shrugged.  “She said something about spending more time with her sister.”  He looked at Taylor.  “I mean, I like Amy and all that, but I do want to go out and spend time with Vicky.  Do you think she might be using Amy as an excuse to stop seeing me?”  
   
Almost automatically, Taylor focused on the names, searching for the people.  She did this several times a day now, checking on the people she valued the most.  
   
***  
   
Amy Dallon sat on her bed; she looked up as Victoria Dallon walked past.  “Oh, Vicky,” she said.  “Can you come in here a moment, and close the door?”  
   
Vicky smiled and stepped inside the room, closing the door behind her.  “Yes, Amy?” she said.  Amy stood up, took two steps, and they went into each others’ arms.  
   
The first kiss was light, gentle, testing the waters. And then Amy’s lips pressed hard on Vicky’s, her lips parted, and  their tongues touched.  The kiss lasted an eternity; it lasted no time at all.  
   
Amy slid her hand up under Vicky’s top, undid her bra; it snapped open, releasing Vicky’s breasts.  Vicky did the same with Amy’s bra, then slowly peeled her sister’s t-shirt and bra off over her head, leaving her topless.  Amy unbuttoned Vicky’s blouse, then pushed it back off her arms, before removing her bra in a similar fashion.  
   
Amy was the first to lower her mouth to her sister’s nipples; Vicky sat and then lay on the bed, moaning softly as Amy’s talented tongue and lips drove her to a fine heat of arousal.  
   
And then it was Amy’s turn; Vicky ravished her breasts with her teeth and lips, leaving Amy panting and whispering her name softly between gasps.  
   
***  
   
Taylor suppressed a smirk.  “You might want to call her up for a date tonight,” she said.  
   
He frowned.  “What?  It’s Wednesday.  We don’t go out on a Wednesday. It’s a school night.”  
   
She chuckled; he could not read anything from her emotions except a vast amusement.  “You might be pleasantly surprised.”   She paused.  “You might want to call her soon, though.”  
   
He gave her a long, considering look, then pulled out his cell phone.  
   
***  
   
They both heard Carol Dallon’s footsteps coming upstairs; by the time she paused at Amy’s door and knocked, the girls both had their tops on, although their bras were out of sight under the bed.  
   
“Come in,” said Amy cheerfully; she and Vicky were sitting side by side on the bed, with an old scrapbook on their laps, the blonde and frizzy brown heads close together.  
   
“Ah, there you are, Victoria,” said Carol.  She spared barely a glance for Amy.    
   
“Yes, Mom?” asked Vicky innocently.  
   
“We were going out on patrol for the evening. Will you be joining us?”  From the tone of voice, it was obvious that Carol considered the question a mere formality.  
   
At that moment, Vicky’s mobile rang.  
   
“’Scuse me,” she said.  “I’ll just get this.”  
   
Hitting the answer button, she said, “Uh, hello?”  
   
 _“Hi, Vicky, it’s Dean.”_  
   
“Oh, hi, Dean,” she said.  “What’s up?”  
   
 _“I, uh, was just wondering if we could go out for a bite tonight.  If that’s okay with you.”_  
   
She smiled.  Amy might not be ready for sex with her yet, but Dean certainly was.  
   
“Thanks, Dean, I’d totally forgotten.  I’ll be over at seven?”  
   
There was a pause.   _“Uh, seven it is,”_  said Dean.   _“See you then.”_  
   
Vicky hung up the call, and looked at her mother with the best approximation of an apologetic smile that she could muster. “Sorry, Mom.  Dean already made a date with me.  He was just calling to remind me.  Isn’t he a sweetie?”  
   
“Yes,” grated Carol Dallon.  “A real honey.”  She took a deep breath.  “I’ll let your father know.  And Victoria …”  
   
“Yes, mom?”  
   
“Do put a brassiere on before you go outside.  We try to maintain standards in this household, after all.”  
   
Vicky blushed deeply.  “Yes, mom.”  
   
Carol looked unfavourably at Amy, whose t-shirt showed her still-erect nipples even more than Vicky’s blouse did.  “And  _you_ could do to follow that example as well.”  
   
Turning, she swept from the room, without even waiting for an answer from Amy.  The door closed behind her.  
   
“Whew,” giggled Amy, closing the scrapbook and putting it to one side.  “That was close.”  
   
Vicky grinned, and pulled Amy’s shirt up again.  “Now, where were we?”  
   
“Right about there, I think,” said Amy, and lay back again.  “So, a date with Dean, huh?” she said as Vicky’s mouth closed her her nipple.  
   
Vicky raised her head long enough to say, “Yeah. You still won’t have sex, and you keep getting me all excited, so I have to do  _something_  to get rid of my tension.”  
   
“We will, Vicky,” said Amy softly,  then gasped as her sister nipped down hard on her nipple. “Oh god, do that again.  We will.  I promise.  And it will be special.”  
   
She unbuttoned her sister’s blouse and played with her dangling breasts as Vicky’s warm, wet mouth made her nipples sing with pleasure.  
   
 _Soon,_  she thought.   _Soon._  
   
***  
   
Dean hung up from the call and looked quizzically at Taylor.  “You were right.  How did you know?”  
   
Taylor grinned.  “Just a wild guess.”  
   
Dean raised an eyebrow.  “This isn’t some power of yours that you haven’t shared, is it?”  
   
Taylor shook her head.  “Just making sense of what I see, is all.”  
   
Her emotions betrayed no deception, just that vast amusement.  He grinned and shook his head.  “Okay, fine.  And I want to say sorry again for messing you and your dad around.”  He paused.  “Step dad. Foster dad.  Whatever.”  
   
She nodded.  “Basically, yeah.  And thanks, but it’s all good.”  She gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “Don’t be late, now.”  
   
He watched her moving off, rubbing his cheek absently.  _Damn,_  he thought.   _Real father or not, Danny’s one lucky guy._  
   
***  
   
“Ah, so it was Gallant,” said Danny, gently kissing Taylor on the lips.  “I had wondered.”  
   
She nodded, slowly running her foot up and down his calf muscle.  “He says he’s sorry, and I believe him.  I don’t know if he believes me about the ‘not being related’ bit or not, but he’s accepting it for the time being.”  
   
He kissed her again; she kissed him back.  “So how are things going with the rest of them?”  
   
She reached down and fondled him; he was starting to grow hard again.  
   
“Well, they like me well enough …”  
   
***  
   
Chris looked up from the table and waved. “Hey, Taylor, good to see you!”  
   
Taylor grinned as she hurried over.  She liked Chris; he was always polite, and accepted her at face value.  And that was something she liked.  
   
 _If what happened to me hadn’t happened, and someone like Chris asked me out … I might have even said yes,_  she thought wistfully _.  Had a normal life.  Normal worries.  He’s nice boy.  Even if I can’t understand what he’s talking about half the time._  
   
Chris was sitting around the table with Lisa, Missy and Dennis.  Taylor slid in beside Chris and put her helmet on the table.  “So, what’s going on?” she asked with a wide grin.  
   
Chris pointed at Lisa.  “She’s telling us stuff about you that I don’t know if she’s pulling our legs or not.”  
   
Lisa gave Taylor her vulpine smirk.  She was going by the name of Insight since she had joined the Wards, and if Taylor was to believe half the stories, she was enjoying herself immensely, usually at someone else’s expense.  But she was also proving to be an enormously valuable asset to the team.  
   
Taylor gave her a flat look.  “You know you shouldn’t be telling those stories without authorisation.”  
   
Lisa grinned wider.  “Hey, these are  _Wards_.  They’re trustworthy.  Says so on the box.  And I gotta tell  _someone_.  If only to see their faces when you confirm.”  
   
“Okay, seriously,” said Chris.  “Coil?  His whole organisation?”  
   
Taylor sighed and nodded.  “He had Lisa under threat.  So we removed the threat, removed a problem from Brockton Bay, and gained a valuable new recruit.  Win-win-win.”  
   
“Okay, fine, I can accept that,” said Chris. “Dennis, didn’t you have a question?”  
   
Dennis seemed to have trouble lifting his gaze from where her newly enhanced breasts proudly jutted out the front of her costume. Missy elbowed him surreptitiously. He jerked his eyes to her face and said, “Ah, yeah.”  His face started heating up.  “I heard a rumour that the Nine being taken down, and Jack Slash being taken out, was you and Pathfinder.”  
   
Taylor grinned at him –  _hey, I like ‘em too, so I can’t blame you_  – and nodded.  “It’s sort of classified, but yeah.  We were in the Director’s office, and she sort of asked us where they were. As a test, I guess.  So I told her.  They ordered a tactical strike that evening, and a little while later, Pathfinder and I took some soldiers in and rescued some hostages from Jack Slash.”  
   
“Wow,” said Missy.  “And, uh, the Merchants?  Was that you too?”  
   
Taylor sighed.  “Someone has been definitely talking when they shouldn’t.”  
   
“Hey,” said Lisa.  “No-one told me it was classified.”  
   
“No-one said it was okay to talk about it, either,” Taylor said firmly.  “You’re the intuitionist.  You’re the last one who can claim ‘no-one told me’.”  
   
Lisa grinned, unrepentant.  Dennis said, “Well, is it true?”  
   
Taylor sighed again.  “Yes, it’s true.  I started tracking a lot of lost runaways, mainly teenage girls, to the Merchants. They’d been taking them in, then drugging them up and forcing them to service their members.”  
   
“By ‘service’ you mean …” began Chris, looking sick.  
   
“Yes,” said Taylor firmly.  “Exactly that.  So I told the Director, she ordered a strike.  The capes were in cells before they even knew what hit them.  The Merchants have been dismantled, and they’re all facing multiple charges.  Kidnap, unlawful imprisonment, and others.”  
   
“Others?” asked Missy.  
   
“The type of charges that I’m not going to talk about,” said Taylor firmly.  
   
“I’m a big girl,” protested Missy.  “I can take it.”  But she looked a little green around the gills.  
   
Taylor shook her head.   _“I’m_  a big girl, and I couldn’t take it for too long.” She’d seen the conditions the girls were kept in, and it was all she could do to keep herself from having Danny take her to where Skidmark was being kept, pulling her little pistol, and …  
   
Chris put an arm around her shoulders.  “Bad, huh?” he said quietly.    
   
She leaned into him.  “The worst,” she replied.  
   
She had cried, that night.  Danny had held her and comforted her, and when she finally begged him to make love to her, to let the good wash away the bad, his sweetness and gentleness had almost made her cry again, out of love for him.  
   
But memories like that could not be exorcised by one night of love.  Comfort was something she took where she could find.  
   
“It’s the nature of the beast,” he said gently, squeezing her shoulders.  “We’re superheroes.  We have to deal with crap like this.  People do bad things to each other, we’re the ones who have to sort it out.  We don’t get called in for the  _good_  stuff.”  
   
“Yeah,” said Dennis.  “Just for once, I’d like to get called in to judge a talent show, or a wet t-shirt contest or something.”  
   
There was silence for a moment, then Dennis said, “Yeah, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”  
   
Chris nodded.  “In front of three girls.   _Good_  going, champ.”  
   
There was an awkward silence, broken by Missy trying hard, and failing, not to giggle.  Dennis’ face just got redder and redder.  
   
Then Taylor snickered.  Everyone looked at her questioningly.  
   
“I was just thinking,” she said, “if there  _was_  a cape wet t-shirt competition, who would enter, who would win, and who the hell would dare try to judge it?”  
   
“You have a distinct point there,” grinned Chris. He started chuckling, followed by Lisa and Missy.  Even Dennis snickered a few times.  
   
“Wait, wait,” said Missy.  “If we were having a wet t-shirt competion and Leviathan attacked, would he stop to watch?”  
   
Chris laughed out loud.  “They could hire him on to keep the contestants wet down.”  
   
More laughter arose at the table.  Lisa managed to choke out, “they could ask him to  _judge!”_  before cracking up altogether.  
   
Taylor couldn’t help laughing along with everyone else.  “Hey,” she grinned. “Maybe we should have one for the guys. Show off those abs.  And no matter who won, no matter what happened to the judge afterward, they could get a great calendar out of it.”  
   
Silence fell then, as people considered a wet t-shirt calendar composed of capes.  
   
“Dang,” said Chris at last.  “I’d buy one.”  
   
Missy nodded.  “I’d wait for the ‘hot guys’ edition.”  
   
Lisa grinned and ruffled her hair.  “Go you halves in it.”  
   
Missy grinned at her.  “Get your own damn calendar.”  Everyone chuckled.  
   
Lisa grabbed Missy and hugged her.  “Don’t ever change,” she said with a grin.  
   
“So, Taylor,” said Chris, almost totally casually, “does your dad let you date?”  
   
“Ah,” she said.  “Just so you guys know, he’s not my biological dad.  It’s a sort of long-term adoption thing.  But yeah, he pretty well gives me free rein.  I just … don’t, I guess.  I prefer to stay in, most nights.”  
   
“Wow,” said Missy.  “That sounds kinda boring.  No offense.”  
   
Taylor shrugged.  “I didn’t  _have_  a social life before I got my powers.  And afterward … I’ve been sort of busy. Really busy.  As  _someone_  has been telling you about, when they shouldn’t have been.”  She directed a mock glare at Lisa, who grinned back at her.  
   
“But if someone happened to ask you for a date, and your dad didn’t have a problem, you’d be free to say yes, right?” asked Chris, once again almost managing to sound just mildly curious.  
   
“Uh, sure?” said Taylor.   _He’s gonna ask me for a date.  I know he is_.  She wasn’t sure how she really felt about that, but the tiny thrill of delight in her stomach said that some part of her wanted him to.  
   
“Taylor, would you go on a date with me?” asked Dennis, in a rush.  
   
Taken by surprise, Taylor reflexively said, “Sure, okay,” before stopping and staring at him.  “Wait,  _what?”_  
   
Chris also stared at him, looking almost betrayed. “Dude, what the hell?”  
   
“Shit, Chris, I’m sorry,” said Taylor.  “I thought  _you_  were going to ask me.”  
   
“I  _was_ ,” said Chris, then stared daggers at his friend.  
   
Dennis looked around at the disapproving gazes coming his way, reddened, then said, “Oh, what the fuck.  You don’t have to come on the date with me, Taylor.  I’m sorry, Chris.  I shouldn’t have butted in like that.”  He got up and walked off.  
   
Taylor turned to Chris.  “Why yes,” she said softly, “I  _would_  like to go on a date with you.”  
   
He stared at her.  “You would?”  
   
She nodded, and kissed him on the cheek. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and have a chat with Dennis.”  
   
***  
   
She found him in his room.  It wasn’t a great feat of detection; she barely had to use her power at all.  She knocked on his door.  
   
“What?” she heard from inside.  
   
“It’s Taylor.  Can we talk?” she called through the door.  
   
There was a long pause.  “What about?”  
   
She rolled her eyes.  “What do you think?”  
   
“Are you just going to yell at me?”  
   
She sighed.  “No.  I really do want to talk.”  
   
After another moment, he opened the door.  She entered, and carefully closed and locked it behind her.  He stared at her.  
   
She sat down on his bed, and patted a spot next to her.  “Sit,” she ordered, unnecessarily.  He sat.  
   
“Dennis,” she said.  “I’ve been in the Wards for a month now, and barely a day has gone by without you staring at my chest, and probably my butt as well.”  
   
He reddened again.  “You said you weren’t going to yell at me,” he mumbled.  
   
“I’m not,” she said.  “I’m making a comment, and inviting a reply.”  
   
He blinked.  “Um … yes?  I like to look at your breasts?”  
   
She shook her head.  “You’re not looking at my breasts.  You’re looking at my breasts inside clothing.  You want to see what they look like without anything covering them, and so you stare at my chest, in the hope that my top will spontaneously disappear.”  
   
He chuckled reluctantly.  “I guess.  It’s a guy thing.”  
   
She nodded.  “Sure. But you’re a teammate, and I don’t need you getting distracted because you’re wondering what my breasts look like.”  
   
He shrugged.  “I already figured that out.  But my eyes haven’t.”  
   
She looked him in the eye.  “Do you want to know what my breasts feel like?  Would that help your curiosity any?”  
   
He blinked twice in rapid succession.  “Uh, yeah.  Yeah!”  
   
She smiled.  “Give me your hands.”  He held out his hands.  She placed them on her breasts.  “Go ahead. Squeeze them, feel them.  Let me know when you’re done.”  
   
His face alight with something akin to wonder, he gently kneaded and squeezed her breasts, running his hands over the cloth covering them, and tweaking her nipples when he found them.  
   
“Those  _are_  your nipples, right?” he said.  
   
“Yes,” she said, “and they are to be treated gently.” He took in the firm tone of her voice, and obeyed.  
   
Eventually, he said, “Oh yeah, now I can die happy. Your breasts feel really nice, Taylor.”  
   
“Thank you,” she grinned; his attention to her breasts had made her feel more than a little moist between the legs.  But he didn’t need to know that.  “I kind of like them too.”  
   
Shrugging out of her light jacket, she unfastened her top and took that off, too.  Turning to show her back to Dennis, she said, “could you please take my bra off?”  
   
Gulping, he obeyed.  “Are you … are you going to have sex with me?”  
   
She shook her head as the bra came free. “No.  I like you, but not in that way.  But you do need to get your head straight about my breasts.”  She shrugged it off her arms, then turned back to him.  “There.  Nothing covering them.  Do you like what you see?”  
   
He stared at them.  “Wow.  Yes. Wow.”  
   
“Okay,” she said patiently, “you can touch them again. But be gentle; they’re sensitive.”  
   
So again she allowed him to caress and squeeze and hold her breasts, rather enjoying the sensations herself; Danny knew what to do with her breasts, and he could bring her to a boil in seconds, given access to them.  Dennis was much less practised, and sweetly naïve.  But he was still gentle, and it felt rather nice.  
   
But eventually, again, he sat back and said, “Wow. Thanks.  That was … wow.”  
   
She smiled at him and put her bra back on before re-donning her top and her jacket.  “Now,” she said.  “Do you think you can keep your eyes on my face from now on?”  
   
He nodded earnestly.  She smiled again.  “Thanks for being a good sport about the date, too,” she said, leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips.  He sat there, stunned.  
   
She got up and went to the door.  “Oh, and just by the way?  Even if I had gone on a date with you?  The kiss would be all you would have gotten.  What just happened was my thank-you for not being a dick about it.”  
   
He nodded again.  “Thanks,” he said.  “Really. Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to talk to you, show you that I’m not just an idiot who says things to be funny. You’re sexy and beautiful and … well, pretty damn hot.  Thanks for not slapping me down.”  
   
She grinned.  “Hey, you might not be my type, but I’m not going to be mean about it. I’m just glad we’ve cleared the air between us.”  She tilted her head.  “We  _have_  cleared the air, right?”  
   
He nodded.  “Yeah.  We have. Thanks.  I appreciate it.”  
   
She nodded.  “No problem.  See you around, Dennis.”  
   
She left, closing the door behind her.   _Dunno if that will help,_ she thought.   _But I had to try **something.**_  
   
***  
   
“Wow,” said Danny.  “You told Chris he could have a date, and let Dennis have a feel, all on the same day?”  His voice held amusement rather than censure.  
   
She grinned, and slid down to start licking at his penis.  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”  She grinned up at him, and then sucked him into her mouth.  He groaned as she worked the underside with her tongue, drawing her teeth along the length as she moved her head back off of it.  When he was fully erect, she stopped.  
   
Crawling back up, she kissed him and lay back, opening her thighs for him.  After all the sex they had had, vaginal and anal, this was still her favourite position. Danny liked it too; she sighed as he climbed on top and sucked hard on her nipples, then eased his penis into her soft wet vagina.  
   
She kissed him as his shaft slid into her, pushing all the way to the hilt without pause.  A soft moan escaped her as she felt herself fill up entirely with his length.  
   
“Oh god, Dad,” she murmured, “it feels like you’re bigger every time we make love.”  
   
He kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers, then began to make slow, gentle love to her.  She moaned and moved under him, pushing her hips up toward him, clutching him to her as her arousal mounted and mounted.  Every now and again, he lowered his head to lick and suck at her nipples; she arched her back, pushing them toward his mouth.  
   
He deliberately worked his hips, pushing himself deep into her with every stroke, the slow, strong friction of his penis inside her vaginal canal awoke her passions and drove her wild with arousal.  
   
When she finally came, her orgasm spread throughout her body like ripples in a pond; he felt this, and increased his tempo dramatically.  He latched on to her breast and sucked hard on her nipple, driving her to another climax and another one. She cried out his name as he thrust hard and deep inside her, over and over again, washing her body with pleasure almost unendurable.  
   
And then he came himself; she felt this, and the pure orgasmic ecstasy sent her mind spiralling into a white-out of nothing but pleasure.  He was in a similar state, only his reflex actions allowing him to continue thrusting into her, sliding his penis hard into the centre of her being, depositing jet after jet of hot semen deep within her belly.  
   
They came back to themselves, lying spent on the bed, holding each other and panting hard.  
   
“Oh god,” she gasped.  “Oh god.”  He rolled on to his back, his deflating penis sliding from her slippery wet vagina, and lay there, trying to catch his breath.  She laid her head on his chest.  “Wow, Dad,” she said.  “That was special.”  
   
He put his arm around her.  “Every time is special with you, Taylor, but yeah, that was something different.”  
   
She smiled and snuggled up to him.  “So, you’ve heard about me and the Wards.  You still haven’t told me about you and Hannah.”  
   
He groaned.  “You’re not going to let me get away without telling you, are you?”  
   
She giggled.  “Nope.”  
   
“Well, fine,” he said.  “You know she asked me to meet her on the Boardwalk …”  
   
***  
   
“Hello, Danny,” said Miss Militia.  “It’s good to see you.”  
   
He sat down next to her, looking out over the ocean. They were both out of costume, and he supposed he looked a little ridiculous next to her trim figure.  Panacea may have reduced his effective age and given him a muscular tune-up, but he was still over six feet, rather taller than the woman next to him.  
   
“It’s good to see you too, Hannah,” he said.  “Is there a problem I need to know about? Something we need to bring Compass Rose in on?”  
   
She shook her head.  “No,” she said softly.  She placed her hand on his hand, where it lay on his leg.  He looked at her, startled.  
   
***  
   
“Hah!” said Taylor.  “Called it!”  
   
“Shush,” he said, needled.  “Who’s telling this story?”  
   
“Okay, okay,” she said with a teasing grin. “Go on.”  
   
***  
   
“Uh … Hannah,” he said.  “I … I, uh, find you extremely attractive.  I really do.  But … you do know I’m in a committed  relationship with Taylor.”  
   
She looked at him directly.  “I know,” she said.  “And I know that you love her dearly, and that she loves you dearly. And I would not have dreamed of intruding on that.  But …”  
   
She paused.  “But … you saved my life, when we took down the Merchants.  And I know you have been looking at me in a way more than a teammate should look at another.”  She squeezed his hand.  
   
“But … but what is there about me that attracts you so much?” he asked helplessly.    
   
She reached up and placed her hand over his heart. “What’s in here,” she said softly.  
   
He shook his head.  “I don’t get it,” he said.  
   
She smiled sadly.  “When I was young, I lost my parents.  Men came to the village and killed all the parents, everyone over a certain age.  I have always missed my father and mother, but mostly my father, because I have always found myself in violent, dangerous situations.”  
   
She paused, and looked steadily at him. “You are a father who found himself in an untenable situation, but did what you had to do to get to your daughter and save her.  You have done the difficult thing, the impossible thing, sometimes the thing that all common sense says is the wrong thing, all to keep Taylor safe and alive.”  
   
She smiled up at him.  “You are that rare thing, a good man and a loving father.  I admire that intensely, and find it very attractive indeed.”  
   
“Wait …” he said.  “You want to sleep with me  _because_  I love Taylor so much?  Because I sleep with her, too?”  
   
She smiled, her lids lowered.  “I do not claim to understand it,” she said softly. “All I know is what my body tells me.”  
   
He shook his head wonderingly.  “Before we reach any sort of agreement here,” he said, “I’m gonna have to talk this over with her.  You do realise this.”  
   
***  
   
Taylor grinned.  “Sure,” she said.  “I’m good with that.”  
   
“Just like that?” asked Danny.  “You don’t mind?”  
   
Taylor kissed him.  “I really like her,” she said.  “She’s great, she doesn’t talk down to me.  Treats me like an adult.”  
   
He nodded.  “I have to admit, that’s one of the reasons I like her, too.”  
   
She smiled and snuggled in to his chest.  His arm tightened around her.  
   
***  
   
Hannah nodded seriously.  “I understand,” she said.  “And please tell her that I will meet any conditions she sets for us.  I admire her deeply, and –“  
   
***  
   
“Ooh, conditions,” grinned Taylor.  “And she admires me deeply.  Seriously, did she say that, or are you just trying to butter me up?”  
   
“Shush,” he said severely, tweaking a sensitive part of her anatomy.  She giggled and  _eep_ ed.  
   
“Okay, okay, I’ll be good,” she grinned.  
   
***  
   
“- only want good for her.”  
   
Danny nodded.  “I’ll do that,” he said.  He smiled at her.  “I think she’ll accept,” he said.  “She does like you a lot.”  
   
Hannah smiled back at him.  “I know.  You have a remarkable daughter.”  
   
He grinned.  “Daughter?  What daughter?  I have a teenage girlfriend.”  
   
She chuckled.  “Of course.  How remiss of me.”  
   
They both stood.  She turned to him.  “One more thing before you go?”  
   
He looked at her.  She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him firmly on the lips.  “Don’t forget to talk to Taylor,” she said, after she had finished.  
   
He smiled sheepishly.  “No way in hell,” he grinned.  He shook hands with her, and she started away down the Boardwalk.  He went the other way, until he could duck into an unobserved nook, and teleport back home.  
   
 _Now,_  he asked himself.   _How the hell do I broach **that**  subject with Taylor?  She already knows,  I bet, but …_   
   
Of course, as it happened, he didn’t have to worry about it.  
   
***  
   
“Wow,” said Dean.  “That was … wow.”  
   
Vicky kissed him, running her hands over his body. “You’re pretty special yourself,” she said with a smile.  
   
He rolled off her, his semi-erect penis emerging from her blonde-tufted vagina with a slight  _plop_.  She snuggled up to him, kissing her way down his chest.  _Not as nice as Amy’s chest, but not bad either._  
   
“You’re really turned on tonight,” he said, running his hand over her flank.  “Anything I should know for future reference?”  
   
She giggled and kissed him again.  “Special circumstances,” she said, rubbing her breasts against his chest, her turgid nipples scraping over his skin.  “Wanna go again, or are you too tired out?”  
   
 _Wow_ , she thought.   _Playing around with Amy really fires me up._  
   
He grinned and reached for her.  
   
She let him initiate the sex play, but got on top this time. As his erection slid into her slippery depths, she began to work her hips back and forth.  Under her, he groaned.  
   
 _When Amy and I start having sex,_  she thought,  _I am going to have to get her a dildo._  
   
And then she thought of nothing more but giving and receiving pleasure.


	18. Three Dates and Three Spankings (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny goes on a date with Hannah. Taylor goes on a date with Chris. Amy goes on a date with Vicky. After misadventures in the restaurant, with Emma and Madison, they attend a movie, then return for more private pleasures. But there is trouble on the horizon ...

  
_[Author's Note: Sorry, but this post kept on expanding.  So now it's two posts.]_  
 

 Danny Hebert stood in his bedroom, humming a jaunty tune.  He tied his bowtie to perfection, then reached to take his jacket from the bed –  
   
“Arrrrgh!”  
   
The sound from the bathroom was accompanied by a feeling of intense frustration and despair.  Strolling casually from the bedroom, he pulled on the jacket and set his cuffs just right before leaning in at the bathroom door.  
   
“Is everything all right, kiddo?” he enquired cheerfully.  
   
Taylor, clad in very brief underwear, leaned over the bathroom sink, glaring at herself in the mirror as she scrubbed her face clean. The pinkness of her skin indicated that this was not the first time.  
   
“Fuck fuck fuck,  _arrrgh!”_  she snarled again.  
   
“Not an answer, Taylor,” he replied with some amusement.  
   
“Tell me again why we’re even doing this,” she said, turning to him.  
   
“Because we both need a little romance in our lives,” he reminded her patiently.  “All we’ve got is an amazingly good sexual connection.  Which is nice, but it’s not the be-all and end-all.  We need to go out with people we trust, who can surprise us with nice things.”  He took her chin in his hand.  “What  _we_ have will never change, but we need to see what the world will offer us.”  
   
She folded her arms.  “Well, you’re gonna have to tell Chris the date’s off.  I can’t  _do_  this shit.”  
   
“Do what?” he asked mildly.  
   
She threw up her hands.   _“Everything!_   I haven’t got a nice dress that will fit me anymore, thanks to  _this,”_  she gestured at her shapely body, “and I have  _no fucking idea_  how to do makeup.  I know what I  _want_  to look like.  What I  _actually_  end up looking like is an epileptic clown.”  She sat down on the toilet lid, put her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.  “Except for the actual sex bit, I  _suck_  at being a woman.”  
   
“And that’s a bit limiting, yes,” he agreed.  
   
She sighed.  “Fine.  If that’s how it’s gonna be.”  She stood up, pulled the panties down, bent over the bench.  “Want a quickie before you go?   I’ll understand if you want to bring Hannah back here for some sex. I’ll stay out of your way.”  
   
He raised an eyebrow.  “Put those back on, kiddo.  You give up too easily.  Credit your old man with some problem-solving skills.”  
   
She frowned, but pulled her panties back up. They did hug her ass very closely indeed; Danny made a mental note to take her up on her offer, at some later date.  
   
He led her into the bedroom, and opened the closets on her side of the bed.  They’d been talking about moving her clothes into his bedroom, but neither one had made the first move quite yet.  
   
Opening the doors, he found a row of dresses on hangers.  “Your mother was a little taller and a little smaller in the bust than you are, Taylor.  But these should fit you reasonably well.”  Taking one one dress after another, he held them up against her body, until he found one in a delicate blue pattern; powder blue fading to navy.  
   
“Try this one on,” he suggested.  
   
She did, wriggling into it.  It fitted well enough, albeit slightly tight across the chest.  Taylor undid a couple of buttons, exposing her cleavage, and it fitted better.  Danny approved of the view.  
   
“Nice,” he said.  “Now, there should be a pair of shoes to match that.  Your mother never bought a dress without the matching shoes.”  
   
Taylor quickly found them; her feet fitted into them well enough.  
   
“Ah –“ he said.  “Stockings.”  
   
They found a pair, and he painstakingly and lovingly rolled them on to her legs, copping more than one feel on the way, ensuring the seams were straight.  There was a momentary delay while they found a garter belt – lifting her skirt well above her waist to put it on – and attached the stockings to it.  The temptation to engage in some sexual play while in that position was almost overwhelming, but he resisted.  Letting her skirt drop, he put the shoes on her feet.  
   
“Stand up,” he said.  “Take a couple of steps.”  
   
She stood, and he watched, and it was eerie; if he half-closed his eyes, he could almost swear it was Annette standing there. The heels were only medium height, and she soon mastered the trick of walking in them.  
   
“Now, you’ve got your hair done, right?” he asked.  
   
She nodded.  “A brush and a hairband should work there.  But my makeup –“  
   
He smiled.  “Leave that to me.”  
   
She frowned.   _“You_  can do makeup?”  
   
He chuckled.  “Oh, god no.  I’d probably foul it up worse than you did.  But I do know when to call on a friend.”  
   
“A friend?” she asked.    
   
He nodded.  “Where is Hannah at the moment?”  
   
She put her hand on his, and he knew.  A puff of purple-brown smoke, and he was gone.  
   
***  
   
Amy finished the final dabs of the lipstick just as Victoria entered her bedroom.  “Hi, Vicky,” she said happily.  “Ready to go?”  
   
Vicky nodded.  “Or, you know,” she said, “we could just stay right here and pretend we went out.”  She indicated the bed.  “I could finally get you all the way naked, and do what you’ve wanted to do with me like forever.”  
   
Amy giggled and kissed her sister on the lips. The kiss went from playful to serious to passionate.  They held each other tightly, eyes closed, bodies moving against one another.  
   
Finally, Amy broke the kiss, breathing hard. “No,” she said, trying to catch her breath.  “We’ll go out, have another fun date.  But you can kiss me any time you want.”  She took a deep breath. “Maybe tonight … tonight, after we get home.   We might do it then.” She smiled at Victoria.  “I just want it to be perfect.”  
   
Vicky held Amy close, cheek to cheek.  “It already is perfect with you, Ames,” she said softly.  
   
Amy snuggled into her embrace.  
   
***  
   
Hannah hummed to herself as she put the brush through her gleaming black hair.  She was looking forward to this date.  Danny was nice and kind and sweet, and he did so love his daughter.  
   
There was a puff of purple-brown smoke behind her, and she turned with a .50 caliber Desert Eagle in her hand before she registered that it was Danny.  
   
“I thought you weren’t picking me up until seven,” she said, tucking the pocket pistol into a small thigh holster.  
   
He nodded.  “That was the plan.  But I have a crisis and an upset teenager, who needs a woman’s touch.”  
   
Hannah’s lips quirked upward.  “That sounds interesting.  How can I help?”  
   
He smiled at her.  “Your expertise with makeup is needed.”  
   
She held out her hand.  “Let us go, then.”  
   
He took it, smoke billowed around them, and they vanished.  
   
***  
   
Taylor didn’t even look up as they appeared in the bathroom next to her.  
   
Danny nodded at Hannah.  “I’ll leave you to it.”  He strolled from the bathroom, leaving them alone.  
   
Hannah took Taylor’s hand, bringing her to a standing position.  “Let’s see now.  Hold still.”  She examined the makeup kit open on the washbasin stand. “Your mother’s?”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “She could make herself so beautiful with it.  I make myself look like an angry raccoon.”  
   
Hannah chuckled.   “Well, all the basics seem to be there.”  She took foundation, dabbed it on.  Then she added eyeshadow, lipstick and just a touch of blush, her hands moving swiftly and surely.  
   
“There,” she said, in far less time than Taylor expected.  “See for yourself.”  
   
Taylor looked in the mirror, and gasped.    
   
She was transformed; her eyes were larger, her cheekbones higher, her lips fuller.  And the makeup wasn’t even visible as makeup.  
   
“Oh my god,” she said.  “Dad … come here and tell me what you see, please.”  
   
He stepped in through the door and nodded approvingly.  “Nice,” he said.  “Very, very nice.”  
   
Taylor hugged Hannah.  “Thank you,” she said.  “I was totally lost there.  All I know how to put on is lip gloss.”  
   
Hannah smiled.  “I can show you how, later,” she offered.  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Yes, please,” she said.  “That would be so great.”  
   
Hannah tied back her hair and helped Taylor put a hairband in hers, then turned to Danny.  “We’re ready to go,” she said with a smile.  
   
Danny pulled back his sleeve and checked his watch. “And still five minutes to go,” he said.  “We’re doing well.”  He looked to Taylor.  “Where’s Chris?”  
   
Taylor blinked once.  “Ready and waiting.  Wow. He looks really nice.”  
   
Danny nodded.  “And so he should.”  He took her hand with his left, and Hannah’s with his right.  “Ready?”  
   
Hannah nodded; Taylor didn’t even have to do that. Smoke billowed, and they were gone.  
   
***  
   
Chris jumped as the three of them appeared before him in a cloud of smoke.  “Jesus!” he exclaimed.  
   
“No,” Danny corrected him with a grin.  “Just us.  Ready to go?”  
   
Chris nodded jerkily, and took Taylor’s proffered hand.  “You look –“ he managed, before smoke billowed again.  
   
***  
   
“ – really nice,” he finished, as they appeared on the Boardwalk, between two buildings.  
   
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.  “So do you.”  She took his arm and nodded to Danny.  “Thanks for the lift.  We’ll see you.”  
   
Danny grinned.  “Anytime.  Just let me know.”  
   
Turning in opposite directions, the two couples strolled away along the Boardwalk.  
   
***  
   
“So where to first?” asked Victoria as she carried her sister aloft.  
   
“I was thinking a meal down on the Boardwalk,” said Amy thoughtfully.  “That new café that’s just opened.  It’s really popular.  And I hear they do a great fettucine.”  
   
“Boardwalk it is,” Vicky grinned.  “Hang on to your tonsils.”  And she dived.  
   
Amy’s delighted shriek of mock terror followed them down.  
   
***  
   
Danny, with Hannah on his arm, strolled casually along until they reached a restaurant just off the main drag; it was not flashy or glitzy, but seemed to get by on understated elegance.  
   
She looked up at the tall man at her side. Perhaps at one time he had been skinny and gawky, but since Panacea’s treatment, he was lean and tough, and moved with a certain assurance.  He also cleaned up remarkably well; his attire might be just a little old-fashioned, but he wore it with panache.  
   
Danny looked down at Hannah.  She had a trim, fit body, strong without being muscle-bound. The dress she wore clung to her like a second skin; she was no Taylor, but he still found himself appreciating the view down her cleavage.  
   
Their gazes met, and they smiled.  Each knew more or less what the other had been thinking, and did not mind at all.  
   
"I'm glad you talked me into this," he said. "It's been too long since I was on a date."  
   
She smiled up at him.  "It's been too long since I had someone I wanted to go on a date with," she replied.  
   
The maitre'd took their names and found their booking, and a waiter escorted them to their table.  Danny helped Hannah out of her jacket and then seated her, drawing a pleased smile from her.   _Old-fashioned indeed,_ she thought.   _I **like**  it._  
   
He sat opposite, and just looked at her as the waiter placed menus on the table.  She caught his gaze and flushed dark.  "What?" she asked.  
   
"We're not going to have the chance to do this often," he said, putting his large hand palm-up on the table between them. She placed her hand delicately in his. "I want to remember every moment.". His fingers closed over hers, warm and strong.  
   
She nodded.  Miss Militia was too prominent, too  _needed_ , to go out on dates every other day.  Compass Rose and Pathfinder were likewise usually so busy that an evening off such as this was unthinkable.  However, their teamwork in taking down first Coil and then the Merchants had made them very much the flavour of the month, and Director Piggot had seen her way clear to approving the time off.   
   
The waiter brought the wine list, and Hannah selected a bottle.  They made their orders, and the waiters bore the menus away in triumph.  He lifted her hand from the table.  She looked at him questioningly.  He nodded toward the small dance floor nearby, where a slow waltz was playing.  
   
"Shall we?" he asked.  
   
She smiled, and rose with him.  
   
***  
   
"Your dad - I mean, your step-dad - is really amazingly cool about this," commented Chris as they walked along. "Most fathers would be all intimidating and 'touch my daughter and die' and stuff."  
   
Taylor sighed.  "Chris," she said, "Yes, he's amazing.  He's my  _dad_. But we're not here to talk about him. We're here to talk about you and me.".   
   
She squeezed his arm tighter, moved in closer to him.  He could clearly feel the warm pressure of her breast against his arm, through the cloth.  He gulped.   
   
"So tell me,” she said softly, “something about you that I didn't know before."  
   
“Um … well … I suck at math,” he blurted.  
   
She looked around at him quizzically. “What, really?” she asked with a grin. “But you’re a –“  
   
He nodded.  “A Tinker, yeah,” he agreed.  “But what I build, I build by eye.  I don’t have to work out the maths for it; I just build what looks good.”  
   
“Cool,” she said.  “I definitely didn’t know that about you.”  
   
“Okay,” he said, “now you tell me something I didn’t know about you.”  
   
 _I have sex with my dad every night._   She paused. _Yeah, no, that’s a date-killer, right there._

“Umm,” she said.  “Have you read my file?”  
   
He shook his head.  “Nope.  I just know that you can find things, and Pathfinder can teleport.”  
   
She took a deep breath.  “I nearly committed suicide before I got my powers.”  
   
He stopped, shocked.  Stared at her.  “Christ. I didn’t know.”  
   
She let go his arm, moved into a hug.  He held her awkwardly.  
   
“It’s not something that many people know,” she said softly into his ear.  “I was bullied, terribly, for more than two years.  Shadow Stalker was one of the bullies.  You know that bit.”  
   
He nodded.  “Yeah, I know.”   He didn’t sound happy.  
   
“I ... the beginning of Christmas break, they took something I valued highly.  A flute belonging to my mother.  I was heartbroken.  I was  _broken_.  That night ... I was going to do it.  End it all.  But Dad spotted it, pulled me through.”  She did not say how.  
   
“And then you got your powers?” he asked.  
   
She nodded.  “And then I got my powers.   And Dad got his.  And it’s all good now.”  
   
“Wow,” he said.  “That’s big.  That’s really big.”  
   
She nodded.  “You asked.”  
   
He chuckled.  “You have a point.”  He squeezed her one last time – it was  _nice_ , hugging her – and released her. She took his arm once more.  They continued on.  
   
Their destination was an upmarket cafe, trendy and hip. Definitely aimed at the teenage crowd. Chris noted with some satisfaction that very few of the girls there even began to measure up to the standard that Taylor set.  
   
One exception was a girl he knew.  “Hey,” he said.  “Isn’t that Vicky Dallon?   Glory Girl?”  
   
Taylor looked.  It was Vicky, all right, in the middle of an animated conversation with her sister. They were eating some sort of fettucine that looked delicious.  
   
Then she looked farther, and stiffened slightly.  “Great,” she muttered.  
   
“What?” asked Chris.  “What’s the matter?”  
   
She indicated with her head.  “See that table down the back?  The redhead and the cute brunette and the others with them?”  
   
Chris nodded.  He’d already spotted them; the redhead was the only one who rivalled Taylor for looks and poise.  “Yeah,” he said.  “What about them?”  
   
“They’re the other two,” she said flatly.  She didn’t have to elaborate.  
   
“Shit,” he said.  “Do you want to go?”  
   
She shook her head.  “I’m not letting Emma  _fucking_  Barnes make me take one more step back, ever,” she growled.  Head high, moving with purpose, she walked into the cafe on his arm.    
   
“Amy!” said Taylor, when they got close enough.  “Vicky!”  
   
The sisters looked around, and both smiled.  “Taylor!” said Amy, half a second ahead of her sister. “And ... Chris, isn’t it?”  
   
Chris smiled.  “The same,” he said.  He looked at Vicky.  “Haven’t seen you around much, recently,” he commented.  
   
Vicky smiled.  “I’ve been busy,” she said.  “How about you?  Any new projects?”  
   
He nodded as he sat down; Taylor noted with amusement that it was altogether too easy to deflect a Tinker from any topic.  All you had to ask him what he was working on, and he was all too happy to give you chapter and verse.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I’ve got this idea for something I call an Alternator Cannon.  It’s got some interesting possibilities.”  
   
Amy was looking at the pair of them.  “Wait a minute,” she said.  “Are you two ... on a ...  _date?”_  
   
Taylor grinned at her and nodded, putting her handbag on the seat beside her.  She reached across and took Chris’ hand to illustrate.  
   
Amy looked a little surprised.  “Does ... is there any problem with ...”  
   
Taylor giggled.  “No,” she said.  “He’s on a date with Miss Militia.”  
   
Amy’s look of bemusement increased.  “And  _you_  don’t mind ...?”  
   
Taylor shook her head.  “I like her.  I think she’ll be good for him.”  
   
Chris frowned.  “Is there something I’m missing here?” he asked.  
   
Taylor smiled at him and squeezed his hand.  “I’ll tell you later,” she said.  “Right now, let’s just enjoy ourselves.”  
   
Amy gave her a look, one eyebrow raised.   _He doesn’t_ ** _know?_**  
   
Taylor replied with a slight shake of the head, and a momentary frown.   _No, and please don’t tell him._  
   
Amy raised her eyebrows fractionally and grinned at her.  _This should be good._  
   
Taylor wrinkled her nose at her.  
   
“Wow,” said Chris.  “Girl code.  You two just had an entire conversation, didn’t you?”  
   
Taylor started giggling.  “Something like that,” she said fondly.  She took both of his hands in hers.  “So,” she invited.  “Tell me about this Alternator Cannon.”  
   
***  
   
Danny was a little rusty at dancing, but it came back to him. Hannah was an excellent partner; she followed his movements exactly, and made him feel like the best dancer in the world.  She pressed close to him, her head against his chest, as they moved smoothly around the dance floor.  
   
The music was soft, the beat was slow, and he had a beautiful woman in his arms.  Danny danced, and enjoyed every moment.  
   
***  
   
Hannah had not danced for some time, but she never forgot anything. The moves were there for her to use as soon as she stepped on to the floor.  It wasn’t hard to subtly guide Danny until he got back into the rhythm of it, and he was a surprisingly good dancer.  She snuggled close, and put her head against his chest.  
   
The music was soft, the beat was slow, and she had a strong and gentle man holding her in his arms.  Hannah danced, and enjoyed every moment.  
   
***  
   
Halfway through the meal, Chris was still talking.  Taylor was getting about one word in three, but she understood it to be a fairly advanced weapon, one with multiple applications.  Usually with the word ‘damage’ appended, or at least heavily implied.  
   
He was just trying to explain, with gestures, how the anti-gravity turret was supposed to work when a new voice cut across the conversation.  
   
“Taylor?  Taylor  _Hebert?_   Is that  _you?”_  
   
Chris stopped talking and turned toward the speaker.  Taylor did also.  
   
Emma Barnes stood there, with her coterie at her back.  She was staring at Taylor, as if seeing her for the first time.  
   
Taylor looked calmly at her.  “Hello, Emma,” she said in a level tone of voice.  “Fancy meeting you here.”  
   
Emma looked at her face, her hair, her dress, and obviously could not find a thing to pick at there.  Then she looked at Chris.  “Christ, Hebert,” she said.  “Are you on a  _date?_   How much did your father have to pay him to come out with you?”  
   
Chris stood.  “Miss Barnes,” he said formally,  _“I_  asked Taylor to come on this date with  _me._   Now, I’m going to ask you to move along, so that we can enjoy it in peace.”  
   
Emma’s eyes opened just a little wider as he addressed her by name, and then much wider as he gave her the request to leave.  Madison whispered to her.  
   
“You know she’s had a boob job,” she said spitefully.  “That’s probably why she went to the hospital.” She looked at Taylor.  “I’m surprised your father even paid for something like that.  Maybe he was just desperate for someone to pay attention to you, so he could get you out of his hair.”  
   
“You should leave now,” said Chris, very quietly, “or I  _will_  call the management and have you thrown out.”  
   
“Fine, I’m going,” said Emma, and moved past the table. Madison followed, but she dropped her handbag as she brushed past the table.  She knelt quickly and retrieved it, then stood and went to follow Emma.  
   
“Give it back,” said Taylor clearly.  
   
Emma stopped and turned.  “Give what back?” she asked innocently.  
   
“Madison just took my purse out of my handbag,” said Taylor, not moving.  “It’s in her bag.  Give it back, right now, and I don’t call the police.”  
   
Chris noted the involuntary flinch from Madison.  “Did you take her purse?” he asked.  
   
“No, I didn’t,” retorted Madison.  She stared as Chris moved forward and took a firm hold of the strap of her handbag.  “Hey, let that go!”  
   
“Not until you give Taylor her purse back,” he said flatly.  
   
“She’s delusional!” she retorted.  “I haven’t got her purse!”  
   
“Taylor,” said Chris, without taking his eyes from Madison, “what does your purse look like?”  
   
“Dark blue, with a white stripe across it,” Taylor said, still not moving from her seat.  
   
“Let go my bag!” shouted Madison.  “He’s trying to steal my bag!”  Across the cafe, heads turned.  Chris felt heat rising in his face.  Madison gave him a look of triumph, and wrenched at her handbag strap. He didn’t let go.  
   
Two waiters approached.  “Can we assist in some way?” the older one asked.  
   
“Yes,” said Chris immediately, his voice carrying as well as Madison’s had.  “This girl stole my date’s purse.  It’s in this handbag, right here.  I want her to give it back.  Can you get the manager, now, please?”  
   
***  
   
When they got back to the table, the meals had been served and the chilled wine was ensconced in an ice bucket.  Danny worked the cork out carefully and poured them both a reasonable measure of the sparkling beverage.  It was dry and tart, and went wonderfully with the meal.  
   
Over dinner, they spoke inconsequentially of many things. She was interested in his personal crusade to get the ferry service up and running again, and of his work with the Dockworkers’ Association.  He told her about Taylor, and about Annette, and how she had died.  She squeezed his hand sympathetically, and he smiled gratefully.  
   
She told him about her childhood, and how men had come to the village and killed her parents and all the other adults.  How she had manifested her powers when in the extremity of peril.  How she had been discovered as a parahuman, and brought to America.  And how she loved America, for all its faults and flaws, because it was a nation that truly  _tried_  to better itself.  
   
Partway through the meal, he paused and frowned.  
   
“What’s the matter?” she asked.  
   
“Something’s wrong ... Taylor’s concerned and irritated ... but it’s being dealt with,” he said.  “She’ll let me know if I’m needed.”  
   
She raised an eyebrow.  “The bond between you is that strong?” she asked.  
   
He nodded.  “Since we got our powers, yes.  We were close before; now we’re two parts of the same person, almost.”  
   
She nodded in turn.  “I confess, I feel a little jealous of that.  Your closeness, your togetherness.  You and I, we do not have that.”  She smiled.  “But I suppose we’re just going to have to make do, like everyone else does.”  
   
He grinned back at her, and squeezed her hand.  
   
***  
   
Taylor felt her father’s reassurance in the back of her mind as she watched the confrontation.  It was good to know that he was there if she needed him.  
   
But right now, it didn’t seem that she did.  
   
The manager had been summoned, and had listened to Chris’ assertion that Madison had stolen her purse and that it was now inside Madison’s handbag.  However, Madison’s loud denials, and her outright refusal to allow anyone to look into her handbag had stalled the process somewhat.  
   
“My father’s a lawyer,” announced Emma firmly, “and he will sue this place down to the bedrock if you continue to hold my friend against her will like this.”  
   
The manager began to waver.  Amy leaned across the table and spoke softly and vehemently to Vicky, who sighed and stood up.  
   
“Excuse me,” she said.  “I’m Glory Girl, with New Wave.  What seems to be the problem?”  
   
The manager’s look of relief was patently obvious.  “We have a case of alleged theft,” he said.  “If you could get the police –“  
   
Vicky raised an eyebrow.  “I can go one better,” she said.  Grabbing the bag, she pulled it open, despite Madison’s best efforts to hold it closed.  “Oh, look,” she said.  “A blue purse with a white stripe across it.  Whoever’s could that be?”  
   
“That’s mine!” shouted Madison.  “Leave my property alone!”  
   
“Taylor,” called Chris from where he still held the handbag strap.  “Do you have any ID in your purse?”  
   
“I do,” called Taylor back.  “My school identity card.”  
   
Madison tried to grab the purse, but Glory Girl got there first. She plucked it from the bag, opened it, and displayed the ID within to one and all.  “School ID in the name of ... Taylor Hebert.”  She showed it to the manager.  “Looks like it to you?”  
   
He read the name.  “Yes, Glory Girl, it does,” he agreed.  
   
“So you’re satisfied that this is the property of that girl, there, rather than this girl, here?”  
   
He nodded.  “It certainly looks that way.”  
   
“Thank you,” she said, and tossed the purse back to Taylor, who caught it neatly and tucked it back into her handbag.  “Now,” said Vicky to Madison.  “Would you care to explain why you took her purse?”  
   
“It was just a joke,” said Madison sulkily.  “I was going to give it back.”  
   
“Some joke,” commented Victoria.  “Seems like felony theft to me.”  She turned to Emma.  “And you’re an accessory, seeing that you tried to deflect blame from her.”  
   
“My father’s a lawyer,” said Emma again, more weakly.  
   
“A divorce attorney,” supplied Taylor from where she sat.  
   
“Really?” responded Vicky, looking at Emma with raised eyebrows. “You were threatening us with a  _divorce_  lawyer?  Seriously? My mom’s a  _real_  lawyer, and she’d tear your dad to shreds.  Carol Dallon?  Brandish? Ring a bell?”  
   
It obviously did; Emma wilted some more.  
   
“Good,” said Vicky, obviously enjoying herself immensely. “Now sit down, shut up and wait for the cops.”   She nodded to Chris. “Thank you for your assistance in this matter, citizen.  My sister will take your details; the police will contact you in due course.”  
   
Chris nodded, released his grip on Madison’s handbag, and went back to sit with Taylor.  Taylor grinned at him and squeezed his hand.  He grinned back.  
   
“Thanks, Amy,” she said quietly to the biokinetic.  
   
Amy nodded and smiled.  “That’s fine.  Vicky’s loving this.  She hasn’t had the chance to yell at someone in a while.”  
   
***  
   
Danny put his dessert spoon down and rubbed his stomach. “That was heavenly,” he said.  
   
Opposite him, Hannah did much the same.  “Oh, yes,” she agreed.  They had each had another glass of the wine, after demolishing their meals to great effect.  She took his hand.  “Danny,” she said softly, “I’m really, really enjoying tonight.  Thank you for being here, with me.”  
   
He smiled and squeezed her hand.  “Sometimes it’s a good idea to reconnect, on a personal level,” he said.  “It’s too easy to let our public identities become more important than our private identities.”  
   
He called for the check and paid the bill, then stood and assisted Hannah in putting her coat on once more.  She smiled and leaned back into him as he did so.  
   
They exited the restaurant, and started along the Boardwalk to where Danny knew Taylor was.  
   
“What’s happening?” she asked him.  
   
“Not sure,” he said.  “It’s under control, but she’s both pleased and aggravated.”  He shrugged.  “I guess we’ll find out.”  
   
“I’m sure we will,” she agreed.  She took his hand as they strolled along.  It was a pleasant evening; the full moon was just rising over the ocean, leaving a gleaming trail of silvery light to the horizon.  
   
They stopped, leaning on the rail, to look at it.  A chilly breeze swept over them and she shivered. He took her in his arms, wrapping his jacket around her.    
   
She looked up at him.  “Danny ...” she whispered.  
   
“Hannah ...” he replied, equally quietly.  
   
They kissed.  
   
His lips molded to hers, pressing warmly, firmly, sensuously. She moaned and pressed up against him, letting her mouth open against his.  His tongue slid into hers, to be met with her own tongue.  They duelled sensuously, mouths moving against one another, holding each other close, blind to everything except the kiss.  
   
Eventually, they broke the kiss.  She looked up at him, somewhat dazed.  He leaned against the railing.  “Wow,” he breathed.  “Wow.”  
   
She nodded, put her head against his chest, and held him close. No more words needed be said.  
   
***  
   
In the cafe, Taylor grinned.   _Wow, Dad just lit up like a Christmas tree.  That must be some kiss that Hannah just gave him._  
   
“What’s funny?” asked Chris.  
   
Her grin widened.  “Tell you later.”  
   
***  
   
The police arrived while Taylor and Chris were still working on dessert.  Taylor gave a brief statement, to the effect that she’d felt a tug on her handbag, had quickly checked, and seen it gone.  She displayed the purse; the manager testified that it was the same one he’d seen Vicky take from Madison’s bag.  
   
Emma loudly and vociferously proclaimed her innocence in Madison’s crime; however, several people spoke up, recalling her hurtful words to Taylor just before the purse went missing.  Amy and Vicky were two of these.  
   
After giving their details to the police, Taylor and Chris finally escaped.  Outside, watching the drama with mild bemusement, were Danny and Hannah.  
   
“It seems you can’t go anywhere without getting into trouble,” observed Danny with a grin.  Taylor stuck her tongue out at him.  
   
“So what happened in there?” asked Hannah.  “All Danny knew was that there was a little drama, but not what it was.”  
   
So Taylor related the incident with Emma, and how Glory Girl had eased the path with her direct methods.  
   
“You know, I could have just gotten it back for you,” Danny pointed out.  
   
Taylor grinned at him.  “Yeah, but this is more satisfying.”  
   
Danny nodded judiciously.  “I suppose it is.”  He grinned back.  “So.  Movies now?”  
   
“Oh, yes please,” said Taylor.  
   
All four joined hands and vanished in a puff of purple-brown smoke.  
   
***  
   
They reappeared just around the corner from the movie theatre, in a dark area where few people would be observing.  Casually, they walked around the corner and into the theatre.  
   
Moments later, Victoria landed outside, with Amy in her arms.  
   
Inside, the line was fairly long, so Taylor was idly checking on the whereabouts of her friends when she realised that Amy and Vicky were three spaces back from them.  
   
“Oh hey,” she said.  She got the attention of everyone else in the group, and they all moved back three spaces, so that she could chat with the two New Wavers.  
   
“So how did it go with the police?” she asked.  
   
“Oh, they took them in to be charged,” said Amy cheerfully. Vicky looked satisfied with herself.   
   
Taylor nodded to her.  “Thanks for that,” she said.  
   
Vicky smiled back.  “Not a problem.  Once Amy explained things to me, I couldn’t  _not_  help you.”  She grinned.  “And it was seriously satisfying to deal with those bitches.”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “So, what are you going to see?”  
   
This devolved into a general discussion between all of them. Chris wanted to see the new Iron Man movie,  Taylor wanted to see  _Tangled_ , Danny wanted to see  _Grown Ups_  and Miss Militia wanted to see  _The Expendables_.  In the meantime, Vicky wanted to see  _Clash of the Titans_ , and Amy wanted to see  _Flipped_.  
   
And then, farther down the list, Danny spotted a digital remastering of  _Casablanca_.  So they all bought tickets for that.  
   
Danny was a long-time aficionado of the classic movie; he watched it with complete enjoyment.  Hannah had never seen it before, but she was fascinated.  Chris and Taylor were a little dubious going in, and were slightly disappointed by the lack of big action scenes, but slowly became immersed in the story, noticing lines that had since appeared in other movies.  Amy and Victoria enjoyed it immensely, although they spent a good deal of the movie snuggling and kissing rather than watching the screen.  
   
As they exited the cinema, Taylor turned to her father. “So  _that’s_  where that line comes from, the one you used to Director Piggot,” she said.  “The ‘this is the start of a beautiful friendship’ one.”  
   
He nodded and grinned.  “Now you see why I’ve been telling you all these years you should see it?” he asked.  
   
She nodded.  “It was a good movie.  A really good movie,” she agreed.  “Chris?”  
   
Chris nodded.  “For a movie with Nazis in it, there wasn’t much action, but it was a really good movie anyway,” he agreed.  “I’m gonna see if I can get the DVD so we can watch it on the big screen at the base.”  
   
Amy turned to Taylor.  “Well, it was great seeing you again,” she said.  “Vicky and me are going to take off now.  Have a good one.”  
   
Taylor nodded and hugged Amy and Vicky both.  “You two take care now,” she said.  “And thanks again.”  
   
Amy smiled and kissed her on the cheek.  “No thanks necessary.  Really.”  And then Vicky gathered her into her arms, and they disappeared into the darkness overhead.  
   
Danny looked around at the others.  “Where would you like to go now?” he asked.  
   
Taylor smiled.  
   
***  
   
There was a burst of purple-brown smoke in the middle of the Wards’ common area, and Danny appeared, with Miss Militia, Taylor and Chris.  A moment later, even  before the smoke had had a chance to dissipate, the adults were gone once more.  
   
Taylor looked at Chris, and he looked at her.  She took his hand.  They walked toward the corridor leading to the Wards’ private quarters, down the corridor, to Chris’ door.  She looked at it, and at him.  
   
“Well?” she said softly.  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”  
   
He opened the door, and they entered.  
   
***  
   
Danny and Hannah materialised in the living room of his house. He shed his jacket; she shed her coat. They looked at one another.  And then they were in each other’s arms, kissing. She closed her eyes; there was not even a jolt, so she was mildly startled when she opened them again and they were standing in his bedroom.  
   
He kissed her again and again, running his lips over her neck and shoulders.  She arched her back and made a purring noise in her throat.  Her fingers found the buttons to his shirt, and began undoing them. He began to ease the zipper down on her dress, sliding his hand inside and caressing the skin he found there. She breathed deeply through her nose, and kissed him again.  
   
He shrugged out of his shirt; she let her dress slither to the floor.  Her underwear was black, lace, see-through, and very, very sexy.  He kissed her nipples through the soft lace; she shuddered and undid his belt buckle.  
   
They lay on the bed; his erection was rampant against his boxers, the only clothing he still wore. She undid her bra, slowly, teasingly, letting it fall away from her firm, rounded breasts, revealing her dark areolae, her pointed, erect nipples.  He lowered his mouth to them, licking them, sucking them, nibbling, making her cry out softly and pull his head toward her breast.  
   
He eased her panties from her hips, slid them down her legs. She spread her thighs slowly, lazily, erotically.  Smiling up at her, he got down between her legs and began to teasingly lick at her dusky skin, close to her swollen labia, smelling of her musky juices.  She twitched and moaned as he teased her, nibbling and licking ever closer to the centre of her sex.  
   
The first touch of his tongue upon her labia caused her to arch her back and cry out in pleasure that was almost pain.  She held her breasts, squeezed them, let out spasmodic soft cries as he gently but thorougly ravished her with his tongue and lips.  
   
She was so close to orgasm.  He knew it, and so did she.  He prepared to give her the release she so desperately wanted.  
   
And then both his communicator and hers went off, at the same moment.  Emergency signal. Absolute priority.  
   
***  
   
Chris and Taylor sat side by side on his bed.  
   
“Well, we’re alone now,” she said.  “Is there anything you want to say, anything you want to do?”  
   
He cleared his throat.  “Actually,” he said.  “Something I wanted to ask you.”  
   
She looked at him inquiringly.  
   
“Dennis,” he said.  “What did you do to Dennis?”  
   
She blinked.  Of all the potential questions, this was not one of the ones she would have picked.  
   
“Um, nothing?” she said.  
   
He snorted.  “Hah. Try again.  Seriously, he’s been creeping us all out.  He’s actually  _studying_  now, and he hardly makes jokes at all.  And he barely even checks out Battery’s chest anymore.  And I haven’t heard him call Director Piggot Ms Piggy since ... well, since you did what you did.”  
   
Taylor blinked.  She leaned in and kissed him.  He kissed her back.  
   
“Well,” she said softly, “I just did this ...”  
   
She undid more buttons on her dress until her bra was completely uncovered, and then she reached back and took the bra all the way off.  
   
He stared at her naked breasts.  
   
She grinned at him.  “I showed them to him, and let him feel them up.  You want to touch them?  You can kiss them too if you want.”  
   
He didn’t need inviting twice.  She let her head loll back as the pleasurable sensations washed through her.  He knew enough to be careful with her nipples, and he rather quickly built up her level of arousal.  
   
They undressed each other rather quickly, until he was lying on the bed wearing just boxers, and she was kneeling astride his legs without a stitch on.  Slowly, she drew his boxers down, until his erection was exposed in all its rampant glory. She lowered her face to his groin, and took him in her mouth.    
   
He arched his back and groaned as she began to suck and lick at him, sliding her lips up and down his shaft.  
   
“Oh god, oh god,” he groaned.  “This is so ...”  
   
She lifted her head for a moment.  “What, you’ve never had someone suck you before?”  
   
He shook his head.  “Haven’t done any of this before,” he groaned.  “God, don’t stop.”  
   
 _Wow,_  she thought. _And I thought the classic jokes about Tinkers being married to their powers were just that, jokes._  
   
She decided to make this, his first time, very special indeed.  
   
She lowered his mouth to his erection again, engulfed him, began to work on him with lips and tongue.  
   
He groaned, arching his back.  He was not far away from climax.  
   
And then their communicators went off, at the same moment. Emergency signal.  Absolute priority.  
   
***  
   
Danny and Taylor:  _“Shit!”_  
   
Hannah and Chris:  _“NOOOOOO!”_  


 


	19. Three Dates and Three Spankings (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shipping occurs, and everyone's happy about it except Lung.

**Just a Little Previously**  
Grue billowed darkness in a wide arc, then ran along between two train carriages and peered around the corner of one.  
   
Something round and metallic bounced toward him. He jerked back, jumped up, clung to the side of the carriage.  The grenade boomed hollowly in his darkness, shrapnel pinging off the rails beneath him.  
   
 _Oni Lee,_  he thought.   _He must be just throwing blind into the darkness._   He gritted his teeth.   _But with grenades … he doesn’t have to get all that close._  
   
And then he heard the bellow.  “Where the fuck are you?  You’re dead, you little shits!   _Dead!”_   And then he heard the  _whoosh_  of flame being played across an area.  
   
 _Fuck.  Lung._  
   
He got back to the others.  Regent was hurt, a bullet wound in the hip, draped across one of Bitch’s dogs.  Bitch had taken a graze to the calf in the same engagement, but was toughing it out, riding astride the second dog.  The third was hurt, a shattered leg.  How it was keeping up with the other two, Brian had no idea.  
   
 _We can’t run, we can’t hide and we can’t fight,_ he thought desperately.  
   
 _I have to call for help._  
   
***  
   
Lisa lounged in her quarters in the Wards’ area of the PRT base, casually toying with her Protectorate comm.  She was loving this.  Out of the Undersiders, out from under Coil’s thumb.  Coil had gone down, hard.  She had truly enjoyed watching that bit.  
   
Being a superhero was a new and interesting career for her.  She wasn’t a combat cape, so she got to stay back and propose strategies.  It was fun being on the side where they didn’t try to arrest you all the time.  Of course, Director Piggot had implemented a no-contact rule with regards to the Undersiders, but Lisa had managed to sneak her old phone in anyway.  They had her number; they could call if they needed her.  
   
Her phone went off.  
   
She answered it;  _it’s Brian_ , she knew.  
   
“Hi, Brian,” she said cheerfully, and knew immediately that there was something very, very wrong.  
   
***  
   
“Lisa!” gasped Brian.  He had opened up some of his darkness so that the signal would get through.  “You’ve got to help us.”  
   
 _“Christ, Brian, what – you’ve got the ABB on your ass.  When – oh, shit.  I left you and took down Coil.  That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”_  
   
“Yeah,” said Brian.  That was the good thing about Lisa; you never had to worry about explaining things to her.   _She_  usually gave  _you_  the details.  “Regent’s hurt; he needs medical care.  Bitch is wounded too, but not as bad.  I’m good.  Can you get any Protectorate help to us, ASAP?”  
   
 _“I’ll do what I can,”_  said Lisa grimly.  
   
***  
   
Up till now, Lisa had been idly studying her Protectorate issue comm.  Now she pressed several buttons, in a sequence that she had certainly never been taught.  
   
This opened a new mode in the comm, one that she was not authorised to use.  However, since she had just entered Piggot’s authority code, it decided that she was.  
   
Rapidly, she typed in a message, then hit the SEND button.  
   
Leaping off her bunk, she left her quarters at a dead sprint.  
   
***  
   
 **Now**  
Hannah rolled off the bed, swearing in her mother tongue.  She went to grab her clothes.  “Don’t bother,” said Danny.  He took her hand and teleported them both to her quarters, still naked.  Then he disappeared again. Seconds later, her discarded clothes appeared on her bunk in a puff of smoke.  
   
***  
   
“You’ve  _got_  to be  _kidding,”_  groaned Chris.  “Fucking  _seriously.”_   He looked down at his state of arousal. “I’ll  _never_ fit this inside my armour.”  
   
Purple-brown smoke puffed, and Taylor’s costume appeared on the bunk.   _Thanks, Dad._ She grabbed it and started putting it on.  Halfway through, she stopped and looked at him.  “I refuse to let my first time with you be hurried and unsatisfactory,” she said. “Let’s deal with this, then get back to it later.  Trust me, I  _will_  be in the mood.”  
   
Morosely, he started donning his armour sections.  Fitting the codpiece on wasn’t easy, but he managed it.  
   
Taylor had just strapped her helmet into place when Danny, in full Pathfinder garb, appeared in the room.  He picked up her discarded clothes, and they vanished in a puff of smoke. Then he grabbed her hand.  “Let’s go,” he said.  He nodded to Chris.  “We’ll see you there.”  
   
The comms bore a pager message to meet in the main conference room.  Taylor and Danny had both been there before; they appeared in the middle of an empty room.  
   
And then the door banged open, and Insight – Lisa – burst through.  
   
“What’s the situation?” asked Pathfinder immediately.  
   
“Grue just contacted me,” Insight said tersely.  “The ABB has gone after the Undersiders.  Lung has them cornered in the Trainyards."  
   
“Oh, no,” said Taylor.  She focused on the Undersiders as she knew them.  Insight was in this room.  Grue ... was running, spreading darkness.  Bitch ... was making her dogs grow, shouting commands to them.  Regent ... was hurt, slumped over the back of a dog.  
   
She focused on Lung.  He was  _immense_.  Twice as tall as a man, clad in shining metal scales, a metal-encased tail lashing behind him, breathing fire.  Clasping Danny’s hand, she focused on the bigger picture, where they were in relation to one another.  
   
It seemed that the Undersiders were trying to break contact, but Lung and his men were pressing them too hard.  And there was the other ...  
   
She focused on Lung’s known cape minion, Oni Lee.    
   
Teleporting around the Trainyards, throwing grenades, keeping the Undersiders off balance.  
   
“Dad!” she said urgently.  “We have to go,  _now!”_  
   
“Wait –“ began Insight, but they were already gone.  
   
***  
   
Miss Militia was heading for the conference room at a dead run. Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared before her in the corridor.  She slowed to a stop; Pathfinder grabbed her by the arm.  They went again.  
   
***  
   
The Trainyards, already a mess after years of neglect, were a maelstrom of destroyed rail carriages, twisted rails, and broken ground. Miss Militia slipped off into the shadows, a long-barrelled rifle in her hands.  The ABB had interrupted her in the middle of the best sex she had had in years.  Someone was going to  _die_.  
   
Darkness billowed; Grue came sidling out from between two carriages.  Taylor grabbed his arm; he spun around, fist cocked, then paused as he saw who it was.  
   
“Lisa sent us,” she told him, her voice hollow in his darkness. “We’re here to help.”  
   
He nodded.  “Can you get me back to the others?”  
   
Taylor focused on the location of the other Undersiders, and Pathfinder went there.  
   
It was bad.  
   
Bitch’s dogs were backed up into a small enclosure between several carriages; they were injured, limping, burned.  Regent was sprawled across one, face grey, hanging on for dear life.  Bitch was hanging on to another, blood running down her leg.  
   
Lung loomed in the gap between two of the carriages.  The dogs snarled, defiant to the end.  The metal-clad cape inhaled deeply –  
   
Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared between the dogs. Grue slapped one.  Compass Rose slapped another.  And Pathfinder slapped the third.  
   
A ravening blast of fire roared through the cloud of purple-brown smoke, and killed nothing except the train carriage behind them.  
   
***  
   
They appeared on the street outside the Undersiders’ base; it was ruined, shattered, but at least there were no hostiles waiting for them.  
   
Bitch looked around, startled and hostile.  The dogs turned, snarling.  
   
“Hey, they saved us!” shouted Grue.  
   
Bitch snapped a command; the dogs quieted.  
   
“What now?” asked Grue.  
   
“Take care of your wounded,” said Pathfinder.  “We’ll be back.”  
   
Taylor looked at him; he looked back, nodded.   _We have to finish this._  
   
Purple smoke puffed in his hand, and he handed her the small pistol she had used before.  He didn’t bother with one for himself.  
   
They went again.  
   
***  
   
Miss Militia had found herself an eyrie, and was sniping ABB thugs as fast as they showed themselves.  However, Oni Lee had also spotted her.  
   
He appeared behind her; she turned fast, a Glock in her hand, already firing.  He dropped a grenade, puffed to ash.  She stared at the grenade.  
   
Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared in their trademark billow of smoke, grabbed her, vanished again.  The grenade went off.  
   
***  
   
“Oni Lee,” said Pathfinder.  
   
“Oni Lee,” agreed Compass Rose.  
   
His location flickered, but she found she could keep up with it.  She started feeding data to Danny.  They disappeared, reappeared. Oni Lee was just crumbling to ash. Teleported again.  She snapped a shot.  Again.  She fired another shot.  
   
On the seventh attempt, when he teleported, the wound stayed with him.   
   
They pursued the increasingly-panicked Oni Lee around the Trainyards, until he made the mistake of trying to ambush them.  He appeared right behind them; she pointed the gun backward without even looking, and shot him in the face.  
   
He fell, and did not disappear, did not crumble to ash.  
   
***  
   
Lung searched for the Undersiders, tearing train carriages aside like cardboard boxes.  He roared his frustration to the skies.  
   
They appeared on top of a miraculously undamaged carriage, not far away.  
   
“Lung!” shouted Pathfinder.  “Stand down!  Last chance!”  
   
He roared, spread metal wings, launched toward them.  
   
They puffed to nothingness.  
   
He shredded the carriage anyway.  
   
A locomotive landed on him; two hundred and fifty tonnes of shaped steel.  The impact smashed him down, drove him waist-deep into the ground.  
   
He heaved up from under it.  “This won’t hurt me!” he roared.  “Nothing will hurt me!  I’m LUNG, motherfuckers!”  
   
“That wasn’t meant to hurt you!” called Pathfinder.  “Just to keep you in one place, just long enough!” They vanished.  
   
Lung cursed, swore, raged.  He tore a the wreckage pinning him down.  Threw aside the last part of the locomotive.  
   
“Fuck you!” he roared.  “I’ll find you!  I’ll ...”  
   
He looked up.  
   
“Oh fuck.”  
   
***  
   
The freighter  _Warden Point_  was rated at fifty thousand dead weight tonnes; it had not been fully loaded for decades, and for the last ten years had slowly been sinking at its moorings in the Boat Graveyard.  Its canted deck was now only five feet above the water on one side, and fifteen on the other.  
   
From across the Boat Graveyard, two figures appeared, first on the deck of one ship, then on another.  They skipped across the intervening distances so fast that there were three or four puffs of purple-brown smoke marking their path.  
   
There were no words, barely any thought processes.  Taylor was multitasking at an extreme rate, taking in the sizes and relative structural strengths of each of the ships she could see, all at once.   _No ... no ... no ...no._  
  
They landed on the deck of the  _Warden Point._  
   
 _Yes_.  
   
The  _Warden Point_ had no working engines; these, and the relevant controls, had been salvaged and/or scavenged years ago.  It had been thought she would never move again.  
   
She moved.  
   
A massive billow of purple-brown smoke, and she was gone.  
   
With a tremendous crashing and banging of disturbed ship hulls, over fifty thousand tonnes of water rushed in to fill the gap.  
   
***  
   
A tremendous billow of purple-brown smoke filled the sky.  
   
The  _Warden Point_  fell out of it.  
   
Lung had no idea what it was, save that it was  _immense_ , and that it was falling toward him.  
   
He tried desperately to get out of the way, spread his wings to fly.  
   
He didn’t make it.  
   
It landed on him.  
   
The rusted metal burst; stagnant seawater spread everywhere. Lung’s fire was extinguished, his metal-covered body crushed into the ground.  The sheer force was more than he could withstand.  
   
***  
   
Transports whined through the air, came in for a landing. Director Piggot got out, stomped up to Pathfinder, went to shake a finger in his face, then turned.  
   
“What,” she asked faintly, “is a  _ship_  doing in the Trainyards?”  
   
“Lung’s under it,” Pathfinder said, as if that explained everything.  
   
Piggot paused.  “... right,” she said.  “Is he still alive?”  
   
Compass Rose nodded.  “Yes,” she said, “but I think he might be drowning.”  
   
Pathfinder nodded; he and Compass Rose disappeared, reappeared on the buckled deck of the  _Warden Point_.  And then it disappeared again.  
   
***  
   
It reappeared in the air two dozen feet above its old mooring point.  The inrush of water had drawn several hulls into that space.  Taylor was fully aware of that, but she had nowhere else to put the ship.  They disappeared again.  
   
***  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and they reappeared beside Director Piggot.  “Down there,” Compass Rose said, pointing.  
   
There was a very distant sound, like an explosion.  Or like the damaged hull of a ship had just fallen into the water on top of other ships.  
   
PRT troops advanced.  Shortly, they returned, dragging the very unconscious body of Lung, now back to his normal human form.  
   
“Oni Lee?” asked Director Piggot.  
   
Compass Rose shrugged slightly.  “He was ... too much of a danger.”  She pointed.  “He’s over there somewhere.”  
   
“And Miss Militia?”  
   
Compass Rose pointed.  “Over there.  Rounding up the last of the ABB survivors.”  
   
Director Piggot nodded.  “Well, I have to admit it.  You two have done it again.”  
   
“And Insight,” said Compass Rose.  “Don’t forget Insight.”  
   
“I  _wish_  I could forget that girl,” sighed the Director.  “She’s invaluable, and she knows it, so she’s also about the most irritating ...”  
   
“Where  _is_  she, anyway?” asked Pathfinder. “I’m surprised she isn’t here.”  
   
Compass Rose blinked.  “Ah,” she said.  
   
“Ah?” asked Director Piggot.  
   
***  
   
The PRT transport came in for an unconventional landing near the group of Undersiders; Grue was doing his best to keep pressure on Regent’s hip wound, but he didn’t like the rate at which his teammate was losing blood.  
   
Bitch, despite her leg wound, was on her feet, her dogs growling at the new arrival.  
   
And then an unfamiliar figure swung down from the cockpit. “Guys!” she called, the voice very familiar.  “Come on!  Let’s go!”  
   
“Where to?” asked Grue warily.  
   
“The PRT, of course!” she called back.  “Come  _on!_   I only borrowed this for a little while, so I need to have it back before they realise it’s gone!”  
   
Grue felt a grin spreading across his face, under his mask. “You  _stole_  it?” he asked disbelievingly.  
   
“Stole, borrowed, whatever,” Lisa retorted, moving forward to help with Regent.  
   
***  
   
“We’ll be right back,” said Compass Rose.  She squeezed Pathfinder’s hand.  “Let’s go.”  
   
They went.  
   
Director Piggot opened her mouth to ask where they were going, but found herself looking at a puff of purple-brown smoke.  
   
She sighed.   _At least they get results._  
   
Then she looked at the devastation in the Trainyards.  
   
 _Dropped a_ ** _ship_** _on him.  Holy Christ._  
   
***  
   
Brian and Lisa were halfway to the transport with Alec when Compass Rose and Pathfinder appeared nearby.   
   
“You’re almost out of time,” said Compass Rose.  “We need to get this thing, and you, back to the PRT as soon as possible, before Director Piggot starts asking questions.”  
   
Lisa’s face lit up.  “Oh,  _thank_  you,” she grinned.  She looked at the two of them.  “Lung’s down?”  
   
Pathfinder nodded, took Grue’s arm.  Smoke billowed; they reappeared inside the transport.  Grue helped Regent on to a bench.  Bitch limped up; Compass Rose offered her hand to help her up.  Bitch stared at her for a moment, then accepted the help.  The dogs, none the worse for wear, leaped up as well.  
   
Compass Rose and Pathfinder clasped hands; the transport puffed into purple-brown smoke, reappeared in the PRT transport bay.  
   
From there, they went directly to the infirmary.  Fortunately, the informary staff had been warned to expect casualties.  They just weren’t expecting supervillains.  
   
The presence of Compass Rose and Pathfinder smoothed things down a lot, and Regent and Bitch were soon undergoing treatment.  
   
Danny drew Taylor aside, and said quietly, “Why didn’t we just take them to Panacea?”  
   
Taylor grinned.  “She’s uh .... busy.”  
   
Her link with him filled in the gaps.  His eyebrows raised.  “Well,” he said.  “Well, well,  _well.”_  
   
***  
   
Director Piggot stomped into the infirmary, her expression thunderous.  “Can someone please explain to me why three  _supervillains_  are getting priority treatment in the  _PRT_  sickbay?” she demanded.  
   
“Because they’re joining the Protectorate,” declared Insight.  
   
Four sets of eyes swung to lock on her.    
   
“What?’ demanded Piggot.  
   
“Fucking  _what?”_  echoed Grue, with rather more emphasis.  
   
“You’re shitting me!” chimed in Regent, from where medics were working on his hip.  
   
Bitch didn’t even bother talking.  
   
“It’s like this,” said Insight.  “Three of you.  That’s barely a superteam at all.  More of a duo with a plus one.  The ABB hit you hard, nearly killed you.  Who’s going to hit you next?  Empire Eighty-Eight?  Your best bet is to join the biggest, baddest team on the block.  And that’s right here, in the Protectorate building.”  
   
She turned to the seething Director.  “Grue knows his stuff.  So does Regent.  And Bitch is  _amazing_  with dogs.  Tell me you can’t make use of them.”  She grinned her vulpine grin.  “Go on, tell me you haven’t done exactly this before now anyway.”  
   
Piggot shook her head.  “Christ.”  She turned and stomped away.  “We’ll talk about this later,” she said.  
   
Lisa turned to the others with a beaming smile.  “If you accept ... you’re in,” she said.  
   
And no-one said no, then or later.  
   
***  
   
“So there’s no-one home?” asked Vicky as they glided in for a landing.  
   
“Nope,” grinned Amy.  “I asked Dad what they’d be doing.  They’re going to a show.  It doesn’t finish till nearly eleven.”  
   
“Ooooh,” said Vicky, her tone suggestive.  
   
Amy nodded.  “Oh, yes,” she agreed.  
   
Vicky unlocked the door and they went inside.  Amy closed the door, and then turned to her sister. “Thank you for a wonderful date,” she said, and took Vicky in her arms.  Vicky embraced her, and their lips met.  
   
The kiss was long and passionate; their lips pressed hard against each other, and their tongues met and duelled in between.  Amy felt her sister’s hands squeezing and caressing her buttocks as the kiss went on.  She did not object.  
   
When they finally broke apart, Vicky was breathing heavily. So was Amy.  
   
“Please ...” said Vicky.  Her voice was imploring.  
   
Amy smiled.  “I’ll meet you in your room,” she said softly.  “Be wearing something sexy.”  
   
Vicky rarely flew inside the house.  As she disappeared up the stairs, Amy fancied she heard a small sonic boom.  
   
Amy made her way to her room, and there she took from her closet something she had gotten some time ago.  It had been saved for a very special occasion.  That occasion was now.  
   
Slowly, she removed her clothing.  Donned the special dress.  Exited her room.  
   
***  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and Pathfinder and Miss Militia reappeared in the bedroom of Danny’s house.  
   
Slowly, carefully, they began to undress one another.  When Miss Militia removed something, it fell to the floor.  When Pathfinder removed something, it vanished into smoke, to reappear (as she would find later) on her bed, back in her quarters.  
   
When his face was free, and hers as well, they kissed.  It was the kiss of experienced lovers; slow and langorous, tender and loving, deep and passionate.  It was a kiss that promised the world, and quite often delivered.  
   
“If anything else happens tonight ...” he breathed.  
   
A large pistol was in her hand.  “I will shoot it right in the  _head,”_  she promised.  The gun became a small knife, in a wrist sheath.  
   
She removed his coat; he removed her jacket.  She unfastened his costume top; he let it fall to the ground, and removed her camouflage shirt.  His undershirt went over his head.  Her T-shirt disappeared in a puff of smoke.  
   
They kissed again, arms around one another, bare skin to bare skin.  She felt his erection through his pants; he felt her arousal in the quickening of her breath.  
   
The rest of their clothing disappeared quite rapidly.  
   
***  
   
Compass Rose and Kid Win stood in his quarters, facing each other. She removed her helmet; he did he same with his.  She leaned in and kissed him, standing on tiptoe.  
   
“Can we ...” he said tentatively, “ ... keep doing what we were just doing before?”  
   
She smiled, and undid the fastenings of her top.  
   
He gulped, and began to remove his armour.  
   
***  
   
Vicky lounged on her bed, wearing  the tiniest, naughtiest micro-bikini that she could find.  Her parents would have had a collective fit if she had even hinted at wearing it outside.  But for something like this ... it was  _perfect._  
   
She looked up as Amy opened the door and entered her room. Closed the door gently behind her.  
   
She was wearing soft white lace, draped arond her body, not quite hiding her charms.  Her breasts pressed against it, the nipples engorged, the aureoles dark.   
  
Looking at Vicky lounging on the bed, as near to naked as she could be while wearing three small scraps of cloth, her breath caught in her throat.  She so _wanted_  Vicky.  
   
“Vicky ...” she said softly.  “Tonight ... I am yours.”  
   
She took a step forward, and shrugged the dress off her shoulders.  With a silken whisper, it slid to the floor, a puddle of lace at her feet.  Under it, she wore the sheerest, most transparent panties that Vicky had ever seen.  
   
Victoria Dallon swallowed.  Amy was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.  She reached out her hand; Amy took it.  She helped her sister climb on to the bed.  
   
Body pressed against body, flesh pressed against flesh. Victoria kissed Amy, her lips urgent, demanding.  Amy returned her kisses, desire for desire.  Her fingers found the strings depending from Vicky’s micro-bikini, tugged at them. They fell away.  
   
Amy lowered her mouth to Victoria’s nipples, as she had done before. Vicky sighed, her head falling back, as her sister’s talented tongue and lips went to work.  First one nipple, then the other, was excited almost beyond endurance.  And then Amy’s lips and tongue and teeth made their delicate, exciting, wonderful way down, over Vicky’s firm stomach, briefly teasing her navel, then proceeding onward.  
   
Vicky was still covered, there, by a mere scrap of cloth, bound by loose knots.  Amy caught the cord in her teeth, opened the knots.  The bikini bottom fell away, exposing all of Victoria Dallon to her sister’s urgent needs.  
   
Vicky arched her back and cried out as Amy tasted her soft, arousal-slick pussy for the first time.  Amy’s tongue touched here, touched there, flickered at her engorged clitoris, delved between her swollen labia.  She drank her sister’s copious juices, burrowed her face into the soft, pulsating flesh, drove her tongue as far as she could into Victoria Dallon’s vaginal canal.  
   
She attached and ravished her sister’s delicate tissues with her lips, her tongue and her teeth.  Vicky, driven almost insane by the attentions, arched her back, and then climaxed as Amy nibbled at her clitoris, running her lips and tongue over the tiny, sensitive nub of flesh.  
   
Amy kept at her, driving her ever harder, forcing her to greater and greater heights of orgasmic pleasure, finally crawling back up her body as she went through one last climax, kissing and licking her nipples and then kissing her sister on the lips as she rubbed her own streaming crotch against her sister’s.  
   
Vicky, panting as though she had just run a marathon, stared up at Amy, tasting her own juices on her lips from the kiss.  
   
“Oh ... my ... god,” she whispered.    
   
Amy kissed her again.  “Your turn,” she breathed in reply.  
   
Amy suddenly found herself pinned to the bed.  She stared up at Vicky, eyes wide, a tremendous arousal spreading through her body.  
   
“Oh,” she exclaimed.  “What are you going to do with me?”  
   
Vicky kissed her hard, leaving her breathless.  
   
 _“Everything,”_  she promised.  
   
Amy’s eyes glowed.  “Oh,” she replied softly.  “Yes,  _please.”_  
   
***  
   
Danny and Hannah lay on the bed, caressing each other’s faces, each others’ bodies.  She reached down, stroked him, grasped his length.  He reached down, caressed her sex, parted her labia.  She gasped as a finger slid into her.  
   
“Yes ...” she moaned softly.  “Yes ...”  
   
He guided her on to her back, kissed her lips; she kissed him back fiercely.  He poised above her; she gasped and moaned as he guided the head of his throbbing erection up and down between her swollen labia, pushing against her clitoris.  
   
And then, slowly, ever so slowly, he began to slide into her.  
   
She dug her nails into his back as he teased her, kissed her, slid into her, his long penis finding its home between her soft, distended nether lips.  
   
At last, he was all the way inside her, their pubic hair meshing, and she gasped at the very sensation.  And then he began to move his hips again.  
   
She moaned and called out his name as he began to pump his hips, stroking into her, faster and faster.  The arousal which he had  deliberately kept at a high simmer exploded within her, and she came, violently, clenching around him, screaming his name.  
   
He drove into her, again and again, his cock ramming home inside her slippery wetness, giving her his all with a tender roughness that drove her wild, setting off one orgasm after another.  
   
They rolled over; she rose to a sitting position and continued to work her hips.  He caressed her breasts, squeezing and pinching the nipples, while she rubbed at her clitoris.  Another orgasm blasted through her, and another.  She clenched around him again and again, and still he held her hips and thrust up into her.  
   
He was just as aroused as she was, but he had been spoiled by his link with Taylor; whereas their shared pleasure could drive them both to orgasm relatively quickly, he was only feeling his side of the pleasure with Hannah, and although it was incredibly arousing, it was taking him much longer to reach his own climax.  
   
Which was all to the good for Hannah.  He made love to her from on top, then from underneath, driving her into one series of orgasmic rushes after another.  It was only when they were doing doggy-style, his hands on her breasts, and his penis pumping between her exposed labia from behind, that he finally cried out, and pulled her hard on to him.  She felt him come inside her then, and climaxed herself as his cock spurted jet after jet of hot white seed deep into her body.  
   
They lay together afterward, holding one another, kissing gently.  
   
“Thank you, Danny,” murmured Hannah.  “Taylor is very lucky.”  
   
He kissed her back.  “So am I,” he agreed.  “So am I.”  
   
She slid down the bed, to where his penis was starting to show signs of interest once more.  She looked once up at him, wickedly, before lowering her mouth to engulf it, to draw it between her lips.  
   
He caught his breath as she began sucking him back to erection.  
   
This was looking like a very long night indeed.  
   
And he didn’t mind in the slightest.  
   
***  
   
Amy lay back, naked except for the tiny, transparent panties, and struggled uselessly.  She had no idea where Victoria had gotten the pink fluffy handcuffs from, but it was quite an exciting experience to be unable to pull free from them.  
   
And then Vicky turned around from where she stood at the wardrobe, and she bore strapped to her hips a realistic flesh-coloured plastic erection.  
   
She swallowed.  When Vicky had said she’d do everything to Amy, it did not seem that she was exaggerating.  
   
She looked forward eagerly to every moment.  
   
***  
   
By the time the last of Chris’s armour pieces clunked to the floor, Taylor was reclining on the bed, wearing just tiny lace panties.  He climbed on to the bed beside her; she kissed him.  He put his arms around her; she reciprocated.    
   
They kissed for a while longer, then he began to fondle her breasts.  She made an approving noise, and reached down to rub his growing erection through his boxers.  
   
Gently but firmly, she pushed him back on to the bed.  He gasped as she trailed her lips down his chest and stomach, and then kissed his erection through the thin cloth covering it.  
   
Grasping his boxers, she tugged them downward; he lifted his ass off the bed to help her along.  Once he had kicked them off, she bent over his rising penis.  He gasped again as she rubbed her firm breasts over the turgid flesh; it jerked as she touched it, jumping against her sensitive skin.  
   
And then she lowered her mouth to him.  He moaned as her lips engulfed him, her tongue flicking at his very tip, then swirling around him, as she lowered her mouth down his shaft.  
   
He arched his back, his eyes tight shut, as sensations exploded in his mind.  Whimpers of words, fragments, escaped from his throat, as she suckled and licked and nibbled at his erection.  
   
And then he cried out as he exploded, his penis jerking in her mouth, spurting wad after wad of hot semen into her throat.  She swallowed it, sucking it from his pulsing cock, making his eyes cross from the intensity of his orgasm.  
   
He lay back on the bed, panting, looking down as she raised her mouth from his deflating member.  She licked a pearly drop from one corner of her mouth; he thought that he had never seen such an erotic action.  
   
“Now,” she breathed, “you can do the same for me.”  
   
She lay back languidly on the bed, as he got up above her. Tentatively, he leaned down and kissed her.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back, quite firmly.  He got the message, and kissed her in the same manner; their tongues meshed and slid around one another, rather sensuously.  
   
From there he went to her breasts; he had already had experience at making Taylor feel good with his mouth there, and he wanted to do it again. She gasped as his lips found her nipple, and then she moaned as he sucked her quite hard, nibbling at her with his teeth.  
   
“Oh yes,” she murmured.  “Like that.  Oh god, like that.”  
   
Thus encouraged, he drew her other nipple into his mouth, nibbling at it, before letting it slide from his lips, his teeth scraping at it along the way.  She arched her back and moaned.  
   
He kissed his way down her stomach to where her thighs lay open for him; her flimsy panties were the only barrier to his urges.  She let him remove them, and then her soft, tender labia were exposed to his view.  
   
She felt him touch her with his tongue, and it sent a thrill of pleasure through her.  She lifted her hips, presenting her arousal-slick vagina towards him.  He did it again, tasting her, and then again and again.  
   
He explored her sex carefully and thoroughly, driving her to the very heights of pleasure.  Where she cried out most and loudest, he returned, his tongue gaining experience and expertise as he went.  When he finally drove her into orgasm, she arched her back and screamed his name. He tasted her juices as they spattered his face.  
   
He kept doing what he was doing; she came again and again.  
   
And then she reached down and grabbed his hand, tugging him upward. He left her throbbing sex, still tingling from the last orgasm, and crawled up over her body.  She kissed him, tasting her juices, enjoying the sensation.  
   
“Make love to me,” she breathed.  “Put it in me and make love to me.”  
   
He gulped, realising that he was now throbbingly hard once more. He felt her reach down and guide him to her tender, soft vaginal opening, where he had so recently driven his tongue, and he pushed his hips forward, pressing inward.  
   
She moaned as he penetrated her, deeper and deeper.  His eyes widened as he felt the hot tight wetness enfold his penis, so much more than any mouth could do.  He slid into her, deeper and deeper, until his belly met hers, and she kissed him.  
   
“Oh god yes,” she whispered.  “It feels so good.  Do it. Do it now.”  
   
Slowly, but with increasing rapidity, he began to pump in and out of her; she kissed him, and caressed him, and whispered encouragement. Her voice rose as he thrust harder and harder into her; she pushed back at him, her voice now incoherent moans of ecstasy.    
   
The pleasure was intense; he thrust into her, kissed her, pumped his hips faster and faster.  She dug her nails into his back and wrapped her legs around his hips. And then he exploded for a second time, this time inside her; a moment later, while he was still thrusting, still coming, still spurting jets of cum inside her, she came in her turn.  
   
As her orgasms with Danny went, it was fairly tame, but it was still a very substantial one; she remained lucid and aware all the way through it, which was an interesting experience for her.  She kissed him again and again, lifting her hips to meet his final strokes.  
   
She kissed him as they lay side by side, caressing one another’s bodies.  
   
“Taylor ...” he whispered.  She put a finger to his lips.  
   
“Don’t say anything to spoil it,” she murmured.  “Tonight is for tonight.  It may happen again – I rather like you – but it’s nothing more than a sharing of pleasure.”  She grinned.  “Now, I notice that you seem to be getting interested again.”  She stroked his length, rapidly hardening.  “Have you ever heard of the cowgirl position?”  
   
It turned out that he had not.  But he was a fast learner.  
   
***  
   
Vicky leaned over her sister, luscious breasts dangling temptingly, just out of the reach of her lips.  
   
“Do you want to suck my nipples?” she breathed.  
   
“Oh, yes,” moaned Amy.  “Please, let me.”  
   
Vicky smiled, let her breasts lower until Amy’s lips closed over her nipple, began sucking.  She caught her breath as Amy’s teeth scraped the turgid flesh, sendng shivers of pleasure through her body.  
   
“Do you want me to touch your breasts?” she murmured.  
   
Amy squirmed, her excitement growing.  “Please,” she whimpered.  
   
Vicky squeezed her breast, flicked a nipple.  Amy cried out.  
   
“Do you want me to do that again?” asked Victoria, licking her lips.  
   
Amy nodded, dumbly.  
   
Vicky shook her head.  “You have to ask.”  
   
“Please, do that again.  Squeeze my breast, flick my nipple.”  Amy’s voice was a broken moan.  
   
Victoria did it again; she squeezed Amy’s breast to the point of pain, and she flicked her nipple quite hard.  Amy arched her back and cried out.  
   
“Did you like that?” asked Vicky softly.  
   
Amy nodded.  “Oh god yes.”  
   
Vicky lowered her mouth to Amy’s breasts, and sucked and nipped them quite hard; Amy sobbed with the pleasure, arching her back to push her breasts toward Vicky’s cruel pleasures.  
   
Vicky trailed her way to Amy’s soft, virginal sex.  She took hold of the panties and simply ripped them away; Amy gasped, more aroused than ever.  
   
She gasped again as Vicky trailed two fingers up between her swollen labia, to rub at her clitoris, and then back down again, inserting one so slowly and teasingly inside her that she nearly came on the spot.  
   
“I think you’re a very naughty girl,” Victoria purred. “Seducing your sister like this. I think you need to be punished. Do you want me to punish you?”  
   
Amy nodded, her voice nothing but whimpers of arousal now.  
   
Victoria felt her own arousal mounting.  She had never thought of her sister in a sexual manner until the first time they had kissed, and now ... she had so much she wanted to do with her. To her.  
   
She reached up and pressed the catches to undo the handcuffs, rolled Amy over.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she lifted and placed Amy across her lap, face down. Reaching down, she caressed and squeezed Amy’s breasts, making her sister squirm and moan from the pain and the pleasure.  
   
And then she began to slap Amy’s bare ass.  
   
Amy felt pure arousal, being in her sister’s power, for Vicky’s perverted pleasures.  The pain at having her breast squeezed so hard was turning her on, making her want to submit more and more.  And then Vicky began to spank her.  Each slap was an explosion of pain that turned into a universe of pleasure.  
   
Amy cried out, over and over, as the slaps landed on her steadily reddening buttocks.  She writhed on Vicky’s lap; Vicky could feel her flowing juices trickling over her thigh.  
   
After twenty hard slaps, she lifted her sister up and kissed her; Amy responded avidly.  
   
Vicky smiled, and laid Amy back on the bed.  Then she got up, and poised above her; the plastic penis slid up and down between Amy’s swollen labia, coated itself with her juices. Amy arched her back and moaned at the sensation.  
   
Slowly, ever so slowly, Vicky penetrated her sister’s vaginal canal with the thick dildo.  Amy gasped and cried out, and clutched at Vicky, as inch after inch slid into her. “Oh god,” she moaned.  “Oh god, Vicky, oh god.”  
   
And then Vicky began to drive it in and out of her, harder and harder.  She kissed her sister, quite hard, and that was when Amy came for the first time.  
   
Amy felt the dildo pumping deep into her slippery wetness, over and over again, harder and harder, deeper and deeper.  She climaxed again and again as her sister took her virginity with calculated roughness, driving her wild with arousal.  
   
Vicky screwed her sister into the mattress, thrusting the plastic cock hard into her, feeling her own arousal peak as she forced Amy into one orgasm after another.  
   
***  
   
Amy and Vicky lay side by side, entwined, naked.  They kissed each other tenderly, lovingly. Vicky smiled at Amy, caressing her breasts gently.  
   
“How’s your butt?” she asked softly.  
   
“Sore,” admitted Amy.  “But a  _good_  kind of sore.”  
   
“And your pussy?”  
   
Amy stretched.  “Mmmmm,” she murmured.  “That’s  _real_  good.”  
   
Vicky grinned.  “Would you like to use the dildo on me next?”  
   
Amy giggled.  “Oh, yeah ...”  
   
They kissed and caressed each other again.  
   
They had all the time in the world.


	20. Wake Up and Join the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor and Danny get wake-up sex, while Amy and Vicky do not. The Undersiders are vetted for joining the Wards, and Aisha turns up late.

Taylor roused from sleep to feel the hand tracing the lines of her hip.  She smiled and rolled over, recalling halfway whose hand it must be.  The hand slid across her flat belly and over her waist on to her back, as she came face to face with the owner of said hand.  
   
"Good morning, Chris,," she murmured, bestowing a kiss on the lips of the young man whose bed she was currently sharing.  
   
"Good morning, Taylor," he responded, sliding his hand up her back and pulling her closer to him.  In no way averse to this, she slid her arms around him and kissed him again.  
   
"So," she said softly, holding his naked body next to hers, "did we have a good night last night?".  _And if you say no, I'll call you a damn liar,_  she thought with amusement.  
   
He kissed her in his turn, holding her close.  "Oh god yes," he breathed fervently.  "What you did ... What  _we_  did ..."  
   
What she had dine with him was fairly straightforward as far as sex went - leaving out anal, as that was something she chose to reserve for Danny - but for a young man new to sex, they may as well have been researching groundbreaking new chapters for the  _Kama Sutra._   Even now, he had a slightly dazed look in his eye as he recalled what they had done together.   
   
He looked at her, eyes suddenly anxious.  "Was it ... I mean, was I ... did I ...?"  
   
She giggled and kissed him.  "Relax, you did just fine.  I had a really good time.". And she had.  He could not measure up to Danny in experience or sheer ability to pleasure her, but she was not yet so spoiled that she could not enjoy herself immensely in bed with a sweet boy like Chris.  And he  _had_  learned how to pleasure her with gratifying rapidity.  
   
"Oh," he said, with evident relief.  "So can we ...?"  
   
"Do it again?". She smiled and kissed him.  "Right now?  Sure.  Later?  Maybe.  It will depend on what's going on."  
   
"Oh," he said, in a tone of voice that told her that he had meant 'later' more than 'right now'.  "I was thinking ... you and me ..."  
   
She shook her head gently.  "Chris," she said softly, "This was always just a date, a fun date with a really enjoyable ending, but still just a date.  Sharing our bodies, sharing pleasure, nothing more.  No promises, no strings.". She kissed him again.  "But I am glad I could make your first time as enjoyable as I could."  
   
"Oh god," he said, holding her close, "If it had been any better, I don't think I would have survived the night."  
   
She giggled and caressed his body, reaching down and stroking his rapidly-hardening manhood.  "Well, if you're up to it," she murmured, "we can go again before i's time to get up."  
   
He didn't answer her verbally, but his hands began to fondle her in all the places she had taught him that she liked to be touched.  His lips found hers, and he kissed her with rather more passion than before, and rather more skill than the previous evening.  She felt her body awakening to his touch, responding to his urges.  Lying back, she let her thighs fall open; he began to move down her body, kissing and licking as he went.  
   
As he reached the centre of her sex, began to pleasure her in every way she had taught him, she relaxed and let the pleasure wash through her.  
   
She was quite gratified; he really  _had_  been paying attention.  
   
***  
   
Hannah rested her weight on one elbow and gazed tenderly down at Danny's sleeping face.  He was a kind man, a sweet man; a gentle man, even.  But he could also be rough when it was needed, forceful when desired.  She shifted, feeling the tenderness where he had brought that roughness to bear.  But it was a  _good_  tenderness, a tenderness well-earned and thoroughly enjoyed.  
   
 _This was a night among nights,_ she told herself, reaching out to caress his cheek, smoothing his care-lines with her thumb.   _I could easily fall in love with a man like this.  But he has his Taylor._   And she knew that he could never compete with that bond.  
   
He stirred, eyes opening, focusing on her.  He smiled.  She smiled back.  
   
"Good morning, Danny," she said quietly.  "How are you feeling?"  
   
He grinned.  "Like I've just made love all night with a beautiful woman, and she's still here in the morning.". He leaned up and kissed her softly and tenderly on the lips.  "How are  _you_  feeling, Hannah?"  
   
She returned his kiss, and held him close to her.  "Satisfied," she purred.  "So very  _very_  satisfied."  
   
"Good," he said.  "I'm glad.". He nibbled her neck; her breath hitched in her throat.  
   
"Danny," she said, her voice going up a notch as he began to work at pleasuring her with fingers and lips and tongue, "if you wanted to bring Taylor into bed with us, I would not object."  
   
He paused, looking at her.  "I didn't know you were ..." he began.  
   
"Lesbian?" she filled in.  "Bisexual?  No and no, Danny.  But I can learn.  And I would certainly learn to pleasure a woman, to pleasure Taylor, if it meant spending mote time in bed with you."  
   
He stopped what he was doing and kissed her, softly and tenderly.  "I'm sorry," he said, his voice full of genuine regret.  "I would love to do that, love to try it.  But I can't see it working."  
   
"But why not?" she asked curiously.  "Is Taylor so jealous?  I can't see that in her."  
   
He grinned and shook his head.  "God, no.  She really likes you too.  She'd never object in a million years.". He drew a deep breath.  "It's me and Taylor together.  It's our bond, our powers.  When we're making love, she feels my pleasure, and I feel hers.  So we could have you in bed with us, but we'd probably be getting so much more out of doing stuff with each other that you would feel left out."  
   
She frowned.  “So … what we did last night, if it is not as good as what you have with Taylor …”  
   
He shook his head.  “That’s not it,” he explained.  “I took you to bed because I like you, and I admire you, and I want to make you feel good, and …”  He leaned in and kissed her.  “I had a whole lot of fun last night, and that was before we even dropped the ship on Lung.  Being with you, watching you move in that little black dress.  Dancing with you.”    
   
His lips began to work their way down her neck, on to her breast.  She gasped as he found the nipple, then he continued.  “Even making love with you; it’s nice having a partner who can go with your every impulse, but it’s also nice to have someone I can surprise.”    
   
To illustrate, he suddenly sucked her nipple into his mouth; she gasped from the sensation.  Letting the nipple escape, he looked back up at her.  “And I don’t  _know_  what you’re about to do; it’s a bit of a turn-on.”  
   
“Hmmm,” she murmured, running her hand over his chest, then down his belly to where his penis was beginning to become quite erect.  He gasped as she took him in hand.  Her lips met his again, demanding, aggressive.  
   
She pushed him on to his back, hard, forcefully.  He gasped as she straddled him.  “So tell me,” she said softly, “how you like  _this.”_  
   
Sliding his glans up and down between her already-slick labia, she placed it at the entrance to her vagina, and bore down.  He slid into her, inch by exciting inch, and he groaned as he felt her hot wetness engulf him.  
   
And then she began to move her hips; hard and fast, up and down, impaling herself on his rigid shaft over and over again.  
   
His eyes opened wide, and he struggled feebly against her refreshed grip, holding his wrists to the bed.  She forced herself down on him, clamping her already-tight vaginal canal around his pumping erection; he thrust his hips upward to meet her strokes.  
   
Their pelvises came together with smacking impacts, almost painful, as they strove together.  She rocked her hips back and forth, making his penis drag against the inside of her vagina, exciting the both of them even more.  
   
She came first, but only just, crying out his name as she drove herself down on his intruding erection.  He archd his back, feeling himself explode inside her, blasting jet after jet of hot white semen deep within her belly.  
   
Leaning down, she kissed him, more gently, more lovingly.  
   
“Oh god,” he gasped.  “That was amazing.”  
   
 _“Now_  do you think we could do a threesome?” she asked, a touch smugly.  
   
He grinned up at her.  “I think we can work something out,” he said.   
   
She snuggled alongside him as his erection slowly slid out of her.  “I love a man who can listen to reason.”  
   
***  
   
Amy drifted slowly to the surface of her consciousness, memory returning slowly.  She opened her eyes, saw the sleeping face of her sister, not six inches from her own.  
   
Shifting slightly, she realised that she was naked, and that she was embracing her sister, who was in a similar condition.  And then recollection returned.  
   
Last night … she and Vicky had …  _oh my god._  
   
 _We did it.  We really did it.  Over and over again.  Oh my god._

They had taken each other in ways that would have shocked Amy, days before.  Her vagina and ass were tender, as were her breasts and buttocks.  It turned out that, once Vicky was in the mood, she had quite the imagination.  Or maybe she just had some issues that needed working out.  
   
Not that Amy had protested.  Far from it; she had participated, enthusiastically.  
   
 _I might just need a couple of days to recover, is all.  Wow._  
   
And then the sharp knock on the door.  Her mother’s voice.  “Victoria!  Breakfast is ready!”  
   
Vicky jolted awake, stared into Amy’s eyes.  Amy saw memory returning, could almost hear the  _click_  as Vicky lined up her recollections and remembered what they’d done the previous night.  
   
She smiled, lazily.  
   
“Be right down, Mom!” she called, then kissed Amy slowly, deliciously.  Amy returned the kiss, enjoying every second of it.  
   
“Think we’ve got time for a quick one before we go to breakfast?” she murmured in Amy’s ear, caressing her butt.  
   
Amy was tempted, but she shook her head.  “We take too much time, or worse, make noise, and she won’t bother knocking next time.”  She didn’t need to add the next bit.   _We don’t want her catching us._

Vicky looked disappointed, but nodded.  “Okay.  But later …”  She kissed Amy again, and squeezed her buttock.  Amy squirmed against her, wanting to stay and continue.  
   
Rolling out of bed, Vicky put on her usual sleepwear, with a bathrobe over the top.  She tossed Amy more clothes, as well as a robe; while Vicky was taller, they wore much the same sizes of clothes.  
   
Which was fortunate, as Mark Dallon saw Amy emerge from Vicky’s room.  
   
“Amy girl?” he said curiously.  “Why were you in there?”  
   
Amy was stuck for an answer –  _should have thought of something ahead of time,_  she berated herself – but Vicky spoke up.  “Ames had a nightmare.  Asked if she could sleep in my bed.”  She shrugged.  “What could I do?”  
   
Mark frowned.  “The nightmares coming back, Amy girl?”  They had been a not uncommon occurrence in her earlier years with the Dallons.  Amy had slept in Vicky’s bed then, too.  
   
She shook her head, managing to look sheepish.  “No,” she said.  “I think this was a once-off.”  
   
He nodded.  “Good.”  A smile for Vicky.  “Thanks for taking care of your sister.”  
   
Vicky grinned.  “It was my pleasure, Dad.  I love her too much to let her have nightmares all on her own.”  
   
For a frozen moment, Amy thought Vicky might have overstepped the mark, been just a bit too clever with her little play on words, but Mark nodded judiciously.  “Good,” he said again, and headed downstairs.  Amy and Vicky followed.  
   
***  
   
“I’ve called this conference,” said Director Piggot, “to determine the status of the Undersiders, and to see which ones are willing and able to become part of the Wards or the Protectorate proper.”  
   
Around the table sat the Director, Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Pathfinder and Compass Rose, Aegis, Insight, Grue and Bitch.  A wall-mounted screen showed a view of Regent, still lying on a bed in the infirmary.  The medics had stated that they didn’t want to move him until he was out of danger; in any case, he had lost rather a lot of blood, and was weaker than they would have liked.  
   
This had not stopped him from smarting off, of course.  
   
“The way I see it,” said Insight, “the Undersiders are basically finished, as a group.  Coil was the main reason we – they – were successful, and he’s in the Cage.  I’m out – I never wanted to be in the group in the first place – and I’m liking it where I am now.  You have two able-bodied members, one of whom has a murder charge hanging over her head.”  
   
“She deserved it,” muttered Bitch.  “Tried to drown my dog.”  
   
“That’s as may be,” declared Director Piggot.  “Grue.  Your real name is …?”  
   
“Brian Laborn,” replied the tall black youth in the motorcycle leathers.  “I’ve got no trouble joining, but I’m going to need a favour.”  
   
“We’re not in the business of giving out favours to criminals,” snapped Armsmaster.  
   
“Wait,” said Pathfinder.  “Suppose we find out what the favour is, first.”  
   
Miss Militia nodded.  “Suppose we do.”  She looked toward Brian.  “Mr Laborn?”  
   
Brian sighed.  “I have a sister.  Her name’s Aisha.  She’s living with my mother and whatever her boyfriend of the week is like.  Mom’s a druggie, and she attracts more of the same.  I want Aisha out of there – she’s only thirteen.”  
   
Taylor concentrated on the name ‘Aisha Laborn’ and she quickly formed a mental image.  She took hold of Pathfinder’s hand under the table, and it went from a still image to real-time action.  
   
They stood at the same time, their chairs skidding backward.  Purple-brown smoke billowed, and they were gone.  
   
Silence fell on the room; Compass Rose’s chair tilted back and fell over.  Everyone jumped, except Insight.  
   
“The hell?” said Brian.  “Do they do that often?”  
   
“Only if someone’s in trouble,” said Miss Militia and Insight simultaneously.  They glanced at each other in mild surprise.  
   
Brian came to his feet.  “Aisha!” he exclaimed, his face going grey with worry.  
   
“Sit.  Down,” ordered Armsmaster.  “I won’t tell you twice.”  
   
“Besides,” said Miss Militia, “they’re very effective.  They know what –“  
   
Smoke billowed, and they reappeared beside the table.  Compass Rose had one arm around a black girl in her early teens.  She was dressed, or almost so, in a strapless top that would have served better as underwear, ripped denim shorts and neon green fishnet leggings.  
   
“Brian!” called the girl, pulling free of Compass Rose’s arm and running around the table.  Compass Rose looked around for her chair, picked it up, and leaned on it, apparently catching her breath.  Pathfinder pulled a handkerchief from a puff of smoke, and seemed to be wiping blood from the knuckles of his gloves.  
   
“Aisha!” replied Brian, and he met the girl halfway.  They hugged, fiercely.  
   
“You got some badass friends, big bro,” said Aisha, not letting Brian go.  “Beat the living goddamn shit out of Bradley.  Good thing, too.”  She began to describe Bradley in terms which were both highly colourful and considerably obscene.  
   
“Enough!” shouted the Director, and for a wonder, Aisha shut up.  “What … is going on here?”  
   
Compass Rose looked around at her.  “This ‘Bradley’ was attempting to sexually assault Aisha here.  He had her clothes half off when I saw them.  I had no time to ask permission.  We went there.  Pathfinder explained to Bradley the error of his ways, while I calmed down Aisha and then we brought her back.”  She didn’t explain why she seemed out of breath.  
   
“Fuckin’ explained the fuckin’ error of his ways, all right!” crowed Aisha.  “Where can I get boots like that?  I wanna go back an’ kick the shit out of him some more.”  
   
Piggot leaned out and looked down at Pathfinder’s boots.  They appeared to be stained with a variety of substances.  This might have been mud, or something else.  
   
Brian spoke up.  “Help me take care of Aisha and I’ll join.  Follow whatever rules you want me to.”  He looked over at Pathfinder and Compass Rose.  “Thank you.  I mean it.”  
   
“We’re not a childcare agency –“ began Armsmaster.  
   
“With all due respect, sir,” said Pathfinder.  “But you didn’t see that house.  We did.  I wouldn’t have imprisoned  _Coil_  there.  Taking that girl out of that place was the best thing that we could have done for her.”  He took a deep breath.  “I’ll  _adopt_  her before I let her go back.”  
   
Aisha stared at him.  “You’d do that?  For  _me?”_   She looked around the table at the others seated there, and then back at Brian.  “Wait one motherfuckin’ second, big bro.   _Who_  are you joining again?  Because this looks awful like the Protectorate, here.”  
   
Brian nodded.  “And that’s who I’m joining, Aisha,” he said.  “They saved my life, me and Rachel and Alec.  From Lung.”  
   
Aisha stared, impressed.  “You went up against  _Lung?_   Fuck me, that must have been some fight.”  
   
“Not really,” said Aegis.  “From what I heard, Pathfinder and Compass Rose dropped a ship on him.  He sort of folded after that.”  
   
Aisha’s eyes widened.  “Fu –“  
   
 _“One_  more expletive out of your mouth, young lady,” snapped Director Piggot, “and I will give Pathfinder and Compass Rose a direct order to take you to the nearest washroom and scrub your mouth out with soap.”  She slapped the table with her hand.  “Do I make myself abundantly clear?”  
   
Aisha stopped talking, looked at Piggot, then at Pathfinder, then at Compass Rose.  The latter nodded, as if to say,  _Yes, we’d do it._  
   
“Uh, yes, you do,” she said, pausing in between words to apparently ensure that she wasn’t going to come out with an accidental swear-word.  
   
“I’m impressed,” commented Brian, into the silence that followed.  “No-one’s ever managed to get Aisha’s attention like that before.”  
   
“Well, he-heck, big bro,” Aisha said cheerfully.  “You shoulda seen Mr, uh, Pathfinder here, kicking the living sh-sh-shoelaces outta Bradley.  He fu-f-uh, he made him real sorry he’d ever touched me.”  
   
“Still not sure you should have thrown him down the stairs, though,” commented Compass Rose.  
   
Piggot stared.  “You  _threw_  a man down the  _stairs?”_  she demanded.  
   
Pathfinder shrugged.  “Child molester, would-be rapist,” he said, as if this explained it all.  
   
Aegis, Armsmaster, Miss Militia and Director Piggot looked at one another.  
   
“I’m, uh, not seeing a problem,” said Aegis.  
   
Miss Militia shrugged.  
   
Armsmaster frowned, then nodded.  “I have little sympathy for him,” he concluded.  
   
The Director looked at Compass Rose.  “His current status?” she demanded.  
   
She took hold of Pathfinder’s hand.  “Moving.  Alive.  Appears to have a broken arm.  In some pain.  But he’s almost at the top of the stairs again.”  
   
“Well, he’s alive, and he may well have learned a salutary lesson,” said Piggot.  “Unless Ms Laborn wants to press charges …?”  
   
Aisha shrugged.  “Fu – uh, forget him,” she decided, with a quick glance at Pathfinder.  “If I can stay with you guys, I’m good.”  
   
“What’s the legalities of this situation?” asked Pathfinder.  “Getting her out of her mother’s custody might be quite a battle.”  
   
Director Piggot shrugged.  “There’s drugs in the house?”  
   
Aisha nodded.  “A shi-uh, shedload, yeah.”  
   
“So we call the police,” continued the Director.  “They raid the place, bust everyone for possession, she’s no longer a fit mother, and we fast-track her being put into your joint custody.”  She looked at Brian, then at Pathfinder.  “Mr Laborn, how old are you?”  
   
“Seventeen, ma’am,” said Brian promptly.  
   
She nodded.  “Well, when you turn eighteen, you’ll be eligible to take full custody.  Until then, you and Pathfinder here will have joint custody.  How does that suit you?”  
   
Brian looked at Pathfinder.  “You got her out of that hellhole.  That suits me just fine.”  
   
“Well then, that’s settled.  Mr Laborn, find your sister a seat, and start thinking about the name you’ll be using in the Wards.  Also, your sister will need more substantial clothing than she’s wearing at the moment.”  
   
Compass Rose leaned in and whispered for a moment to Pathfinder; a few seconds later, a puff of spoke heralded the arrival of a folded T-shirt in his free hand.  It puffed again, reappearing on the table in front of Brian.  
   
“The hell?” he said, picking it up, and opening it to show a screen-print of Alexandria on it.  
   
“Let’s just say, I’m donating to the cause,” said Compass Rose.  
   
Brian wordlessly handed the shirt to his sister, who looked at Pathfinder and Compass Rose.  The latter nodded.  Aisha shrugged, and pulled the shirt over her head, drastically reducing the amount of skin she was showing.  
   
“Thank  _you_ , Compass Rose,” said the Director.  “Moving on.  Ms Lindt.”  
   
“Bitch,” muttered the stocky auburn-haired girl.  
   
“I  _beg_  your pardon?” snapped Director Piggot.  
   
“Unacceptable!” snapped Armsmaster at the same time.  
   
“Whoa, whoa,” said Brian.  “She calls herself Bitch.  She wasn’t calling you a name, she was just telling you what she wants to be called.”  He turned to his companion.  “Right – Bitch?”  
   
Reluctantly, she nodded.  
   
Piggot frowned.  “Well, in that case … we’re going to have to change that name.  But, for the moment … are you willing to join the Wards?”  
   
Rachel raised her eyes to the Director.  “Do I get to keep the dogs?” she asked bluntly.  
   
“Kennels can be set up for them,” said Miss Militia cautiously.  
   
“No, I mean  _all_  the dogs,” countered Rachel.  
   
“I … don’t get you,” said Director Piggot.  
   
Brian cleared his throat.  “Uh, if I may, ma’am?” he said.  
   
Piggot nodded.  “Go ahead, Mr Laborn.”  
   
“Uh, Bitch wants to be able to take in any stray dogs she finds,” he explained.  “Any that are being mistreated.  There are dog-fighting rings in the city.  She wants to take those down, too, rescue the dogs.”  
   
“And once you’ve got these dogs,” said Armsmaster, “what will you do with them?”  
   
“Feed them,” said Rachel.  “Get them healthy.  Train them.”  
   
“She’s really, really good with dogs,” put in Brian.  
   
“Could you train dogs to police standards?” asked Miss Militia, her expression thoughtful.  
   
Rachel just snorted.  
   
“That’s a yes,” clarified Brian.  “But she doesn’t stop there.”  
   
“Very well,” said Director Piggot.  “Suppose I placed you in the PRT – under supervision, of course – to work with police and military dog handlers, training dogs to your standards.  And I made it a condition of your working for us that any stray dogs go under your care, and you have adequate facilities to care for them all.”  
   
Rachel looked up at her.  “What’s the catch?” she asked.  
   
Piggot gave her a thin smile.  “You train dogs to work with  _other_  people,” she said bluntly.  “Not just you.”  
   
Bitch gave her a flat stare.  “Okay, but I get to take  _any_  dog that needs help.  Not just the types trainers need.”  
   
The Director matched her, stare for stare.  “Deal,” she said.  
   
Armsmaster cleared his throat.  “Uh – what about the fact that she’s got a murder charge on her sheet?”  
   
Piggot gave him a bland stare.  “I  _said_  she’ll be under supervision.  You’re it.  You’re also her liaison.  If she has a complaint, she goes to you.  If people are screwing her over, all I want to hear is the after-action report.”  
   
Both Armsmaster and Rachel started to protest; Piggot stared them both down.  “You’ve got a problem with each other, deal with it between yourselves,” she said grimly.  “Now.  Regent.”  
   
The speaker next to the wall screen came to life.   _“Ah, Director.  I was wondering when you’d get to me.”_

“I would have waited until you were healthier,” said the Director, “but I’d prefer to get this out of the way now.”  She paused.  “We have several aliases on file for you.  Which is your birth name?”  
   
 _“Jean-Paul Vasil,”_ replied Regent on the screen.   _“But I prefer just plain ‘Alec’.”_  
   
“Vasil … Vasil,” muttered Armsmaster.  “I know that name.”  He muttered the name one more time, then paused.  
   
A moment later, he spoke slowly.  “You’re related to  _Heartbreaker?”_  
   
 _“The very same,”_  confirmed Regent.   _“But I’d rather that did not become common knowledge.  He might decide to come take me back.  And I don’t want to go back.”_   He paused.   _“But here’s the thing.  I’m grateful for the rescue and the medical attention; don’t think I’m not.  But I’m a Master.  I control people.  This sort of creeps people out.  Is there even room in your clubhouse for someone like me?”_

“What do you control about people?” asked Miss Militia.  
   
 _“Their movements.  Use of physical powers.  Stuff like that,”_ said Regent.  
   
“So you don’t control minds?” pressed Miss Militia.  
   
 _“Not as such, no,”_ confirmed Regent.   _“Don’t think I haven’t tried.  But it just doesn’t work that way.”_

Miss Militia glanced at Armsmaster.  He nodded fractionally.  
   
“So we team you with people who have mental abilities, that you can’t control,” he said.  “Of course, like the others, you’ll wear a tracking bracelet until we decide you’re trustworthy.”  
   
 _“Seriously?”_  asked Regent.   _“Why not just an explosive collar?”_  
   
“We prefer not to use such drastic means,” Director Piggot deadpanned.  “Though we  _could_  make an exception in your case.”  
   
Regent grinned.   _“Okay, fine.  Tracking bracelet it is.”_  
   
“Then welcome to the Wards,” said Director Piggot.  
   
She got up and left the room; as she went, Compass Rose heard her mutter something.  She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like, “and I hope we’re not all making a huge mistake.”  
   
She understood the sentiment perfectly.


	21. Dealing with Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitch and Armsmaster find unexpected common ground, Brian and Aisha move into the Hebert house, and Operation Dragon Drop goes off without a hitch.

Bitch glowered at Armsmaster.  “I don’t need a fucking minder!” she snarled.  
   
“And the PRT doesn’t need someone who can’t take orders!” he growled back. He took a breath; he was under specific orders to not start a fight with her. “I can either watch you, or you go directly into custody.  There’s no third option.  Do you get that?”  
   
She looked at him.  He was bigger than her, stronger than her, and she didn’t have any dogs with her. In addition, he had been very firmly put into authority over her.  
   
And they were caring for her dogs.  She had seen to that.   _Might as well find out what the fuck_ _’_ _s going on._  
   
She shook her head.  “What the fuck is this all about, anyway?  I didn’t get half that shit back there.  All that high-end double-talk bullshit.  What’s it come down to?”  
   
He sighed.  “Director Piggot thinks she’s being  _smart,_ _”_  he explained.  “You got rescued from Lung and the ABB, so she thinks you owe us.  And she’d rather have capes working for us, under her thumb, than in jail.”  
   
She stared at him.  “Well, why the fuck didn’t they just say so?”  
   
He shrugged.  “They like to hear themselves talk?”  
   
She surprised herself with a chuckle.  “You got that fucking right.  Talk, talk,  _fucking_  talk.  Never say what they fucking mean.”  
   
He looked at her.  “Well, with me, that’s the least of your worries.  If I say something to you, what it sounds like is what it means.  I don’t believe in needless talk.”  
   
She was silent for a moment.  “Okay,” she said.  “What happens now?”  
   
“Now,” he said, “we go and get you processed in, and start talking about legal matters.”  
   
“Legal matters?” she asked.  “What the fuck is this?”  
   
“You’ve still got a murder charge hanging over you.  That sort of thing doesn’t just go away.  So we’re going to use our high-powered lawyers to use their legal double-talk bullshit to  _make_  it go away.”  He pointed at her.  “You don’t say a fucking word.  I got this shit.”  
   
She shrugged her shoulders.  “Fine,” she agreed.  “So long as I don’t have to  _understand_  it.”  
   
***  
   
Director Piggot closed the window on her screen and smiled with quiet satisfaction.   _That could have gone either way,_ she knew.  _But thankfully, their mutual social ineptitude provided a bonding point rather than a friction point._

She smiled with satisfaction.   _And Lung is down, the ABB scattered. A good day_ _’_ _s work._  
   
Slowly, she shook her head.   _Dropped a fucking **ship**  on him.  Christ almighty._  
   
***  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and four people were standing in the Hebert living room.   
   
Pathfinder and Compass Rose took their helmets off to become Danny and Taylor Hebert.  As they did so, Brian and Aisha looked around with some interest.  
   
“You’re underage until June,” said Danny, “so until then, I’ll technically be your legal guardian.”  He nodded to Brian.  “I’ll be expecting you to keep your sister in line, though.”  
   
Aisha rolled her eyes.  "Yeah," she said.  "Like  _that's_ gonna happen."  
   
"Hey!" snapped Brian.  "They're good enough to take us in, you show them some respect, okay?  Or have you forgotten what they pulled you out of?"  
   
Aisha subsided, looking sulky.  "I was just joking," she muttered.  
   
Taylor broke the awkward silence that followed. “Come on,” she said to Aisha.  “I’ll show you your room.”    
   
"I get my own room?" asked Aisha, startled out of her sulk.  
   
"Sure," said Taylor.  "Come on."  She led the way upstairs, along the hallway, and opened the door.  “It’s my old room,” she explained.  “I’ve been going to move my stuff out anyway.”  
   
“Where’s Brian gonna be sleeping?” asked Aisha.  “Shit, where are  _you_  gonna be sleeping?”  
   
“For Brian, we’ve got a spare room,” said Taylor.  “I … sleep with Danny.”  
   
“So wait,” said Aisha.  “Pathfinder’s  _fucking_  you?  Isn’t he, like, your dad or something?”  
   
Taylor shook her head.  “No,” she said.  “He’s no relation, biologically speaking.  He’s just legally my father.”  
   
“Hey, don’t get me wrong,” said Aisha.  “I think it’s kind of kinky, myself.”  She looked at Taylor expectantly.  “So, what’s the whole sex-with-an-older-guy thing like, anyway?”  
   
Taylor frowned.  “Why are you even asking these questions?  What we rescued you from …”  
   
“I don’t dwell on shit,” Aisha assured her.  “Two minutes time, I probably won’t even remember this conversation.”  She jabbed Taylor with her elbow. “Well?”  
   
“You want to know what it’s like?” asked Taylor.  She leaned in close to Aisha’s ear.   _“_ _None of your business,_ _”_  she whispered.  
   
Aisha stuck out her tongue at her.  “Maybe I’ll have to find out for myself,” she challenged.  
   
“And maybe you’ll swing and miss,” Taylor retorted.  “Because I know what turns him on, and it isn’t you.”  
   
“Says you,” replied Aisha with a wicked grin.  
   
Taylor sighed.  
   
***  
   
In the kitchen, Danny paused in the process of making coffee.  “Back in  a second,” he said to Brian.  A moment later, there was just a dissipating cloud of purple-brown smoke where he had been standing.  
   
Brian blinked.   _I guess I should get used to that,_ he mused.  
   
***  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed next to Taylor; it dissipated to show Danny standing there.  “Yes?” he asked.  
   
Taylor indicated Aisha.  “She thinks she’ll be able to seduce you,” she said bluntly.    
   
Aisha’s eyes went very wide.  “The fu-“ she began.  
   
Danny shook his head.  “No,” he said to Aisha.  “You won’t.”  He looked at Taylor.  “Was there anything else?”  
   
She kissed him on the lips, slowly and lingeringly.  “No,” she said softly, after she had finished.  
   
He nodded.  “Okay,” he said, and smoke billowed where he had stood.  
   
Aisha looked at Taylor with mixed confusion and surprise in her expression.  “I don’t believe you just …  _did_  that!” she sputtered.  
   
Taylor shrugged.  “I thought it was best to bring it into the open.  This way, you know, I know, Danny knows.  Brian doesn’t need to know.”  
   
“No,” agreed Aisha fervently.  “He doesn’t.”  
   
***  
   
“So what was that about?” asked Brian, when Danny reappeared next to him.  
   
Danny grinned.  “Just settled a disagreement.”  He didn’t elaborate.  
   
“Ah,” said Brian.  “Gotcha.”. He paused. "You can tell if Taylor needs you?"  
   
Danny nodded.  "It's a power thing.  I know how she's feeling, and where she is, and vice versa.". He started pouring the coffee.  
   
"What,  _all_  the time?" asked Brian.  "I don't know if I could stand to have someone in my head twenty-four-seven like that."  
   
Danny shrugged.  "It's normal to us, now.  Taylor needs me, and I need her.  It's that simple.". He handed Brian his coffee.  
   
“Now,” he said, “we’ll be putting you into the spare room.  Aisha will be going into Taylor’s old room.  Any stuff you own you can keep in your room, or downstairs in the basement.”  He looked at Brian.  “Any questions?”  
   
“Just one,” said Brian.  “I’m a criminal.  My sister’s shoplifted more than once.  How do you know you can trust us in your home?  Not to steal stuff, I mean.”  
   
Danny grinned.  “You  _do_  recall what our powers are, don’t you?”  
   
Brian looked enlightened.  “Ah, of course.  And Lisa  _said_  you were more powerful than they said on TV.”  
   
Danny nodded.  “Just a little,” he allowed.  “Just a little.”  
   
Brian paused.  "So ... the fact that Taylor can keep tabs on us, that's why you took us in?" he asked.  
   
Danny shook his head.  "No.  The reason's a lot simpler than that."  
   
He paused; Brian sent him a searching look. "Such as?" he asked.  
   
"We've been where you are," said Danny bluntly. "Not exactly," he went on, as Brian opened his mouth, "but close enough.  We were in a bad place - _Taylor_ was in a bad place - and there wasn't much I could do to help her.  Anyone we tried reaching out to either couldn't or wouldn't help us.  We were just about holding things together, but I didn't know how long that would last.  And then ... we got our powers. And that changed everything."  
   
"Getting powers didn't change things enough for me," muttered Brian.  
   
Danny nodded sympathetically.  "I guess we were in the right place at the right time. My power alone is enough to make the Protectorate want me in their ranks.  With Taylor added in, they were willing to bend way, wayy over backward and bend quite a few rules in order to get us on side.  So our ... particular situation ... got the official seal of approval."  
   
"I can see that," agreed Brian. "Is it true that you dropped a  _ship_  on Lung?"  
   
Danny nodded.  "Yeah," he said.  "It was the biggest thing we could find that I could be sure of moving in a hurry."  
   
Brian shook his head.  "I don't know whether to be more impressed that you moved it, or that Lung survived it being dropped on him."  
   
Danny chuckled.  "There is that.". He paused.  "So yes, Taylor and I have been there, been where we desperately needed help and no-one would give it.  You and Aisha are there now.  So ... we're helping."  
   
Brian nodded.  "Well ... thanks," he said, and he didn't mean the coffee.  
   
"Anytime," said Danny, and nor did he.  
   
Just then, his smartphone rang.  
   
***  
   
Aisha bounced experimentally on the bed. "Cool," she said. "It doesn't even smell of piss or cigarette smoke.  Or puke. Puke's the worst."  
   
Taylor shook her head, trying not to smile at the way Aisha was trying to conceal her delight.  "I've been there," she said.  "But not to sleep in."  
   
"Yeah?" asked Aisha.  "What happened?"  
   
So Taylor told the story of how she was shut in the locker, and how her father had come and got her out.  Aisha was silent for most of the telling, her eyes growing wider and wider.  
   
"Fuck," she said at the end.  "Those  _bitches."_  
   
Taylor nodded.  "They got away with it for more than two years; there was no reason for them to think they couldn't get away with it this time.  Except ...". She paused.  "You know Shadow Stalker?"  
   
"Fuck yes," said Aisha.  "She's been trying to off Brian since the first time they met."  
   
Taylor nodded.  "Somehow, I'm not surprised," she said.  "She's one of the bitches, you see.  So when I got my powers and figured  _that_  one out ..."  
   
Aisha nodded.  "Well, fuck," she said happily.  "I'd love to have seen tho look on her face when that came out.". She paused.  "So what happened to her?"  
   
Taylor shrugged.  "Apparently, she tried to make a run for it.  Didn't get very far.  So they threw the book at her.  Go straight to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars."  
   
Aisha grinned.  "I'll tell Brian that.  It'll make his day.". She paused.  "So what happened -"  
   
She didn't get any farther, because just then Taylor's smartphone went off in the pouch on her belt.  Taylor pulled it out and answered it.  "Compass Rose."  
   
It was Miss Militia.   _"Crawler's on the move.  We need you to execute plan Dragon Drop."_  
   
"Roger," said Taylor crisply.  She put the phone away and held out her hands in front of her; there was a puff of purple-brown smoke and her helmet fell into them.  
   
 “Shit,” said Aisha, impressed, just as Danny appeared in the bedroom, still buckling his own helmet on.  “What’s up? You going somewhere?”  
   
“Tell you when we get back,” said Taylor.  She gave the surprised Aisha a quick hug.  “I’m glad you’re safe,” she said softly.  
   
And then purple smoke bloomed, and they were gone.  
   
Aisha watched it dissipate, then bounced on the bed again.  It was just as springy as it had been the first time around.  
   
***  
   
Danny and Taylor appeared in the middle of the living room.  Danny turned to Brian.  “I probably don’t need to say this,” he said, “but you’re in charge till we get back. There’s food in the fridge, the remote’s on the TV, and the bathroom’s upstairs.  We’ll go pick up your clothes when we get the chance.”  
   
“Okay,” said Brian.  “And thanks again.”  
   
He found himself talking to a cloud of the same purple-brown smoke as it wafted into nothingness.  
   
“Well, fuck,” he said out loud.  
   
Aisha appeared at the top of the stairs.  “Hey, big bro.  Are you believing this?”  
   
Brian shook his head.  “Not really.”  He looked around at the living room, at the small TV set.  “I wonder if Danny would object to me moving the gaming console in here.”  
   
Aisha came skipping down the stairs.  “Taylor would probably enjoy the hell out of it.  Hell, you might even be able to rope Danny in.  He seems pretty cool.”  
   
Brian nodded.  “Hey, we can only ask,” he said cheerfully.  
   
They flopped on to the sofa, side by side.  After a brief tussle, Brian won custody of the remote, which he used to turn on the TV. Soon, he was flicking through news channels to see if he could find out where Pathfinder and Compass Rose had gone off to in such a tearing hurry.  
   
***  
   
Shatterbird had survived the initial attack on the Slaughterhouse Nine, but she had only lasted a week on her own before a conglomerate of capes from the Southwest had banded together and captured her, using location data supplied by the PRT (and, ultimately, Compass Rose).  She was handed over to the local PRT, more dead than alive.  Given the extant kill order on her head, she was summarily executed.  
   
Crawler had been a different matter.  A stand-up fight he could handle, even relish.  But when fliers zoomed overhead, trying to freeze or tranquillise or otherwise make him amenable to capture, he had no fun.  There wasn’t even much in the way of damage for him to heal.  
   
So he had hidden out, away from the clattering helicopters, the rumbling armoured vehicles.  They didn’t try to shoot him any more; they had learned that it did virtually nothing.  But the helicopters and ground vehicles did have familiar-looking spray guns. Containment foam.  
   
Crawler considered containment foam to be the most cheating, unfair thing that the PRT had ever brought out.  It did no damage, but it held him still.  The only way for him to get out of it was to spit his corrosive saliva on it, or to break free by main force.  If they deployed enough foam, neither way would work.  
   
But he’d figured it out.  
   
If he stayed in one place for too long, they’d bring in something that could hold him.  So he was gonna go for broke, head for the nearest population centre.  Once he started tearing things up, eating people, they’d have to bring in the big guns, dealing the big hurt.  Really start trying to kill him.  
   
 _I can’t fucking wait._  
   
***  
   
Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared beside Miss Miltia, on the landing stage of the PRT building.  She raised an eyebrow.  “That took a few seconds longer than I expected,” she observed.  
   
Pathfinder shrugged.  “We had to make sure the Laborns were settled in,” he explained.  
   
Miss Militia nodded. “Well, I’ll be your pilot for the day.” She turned to the Dragon suit crouching on the landing stage.  “It’s technically a two-seater.  You’re going to have to share the second seat.”  
   
“Not a problem,” Pathfinder assured her.  
   
She grinned at him, behind her scarf.  “I presumed not.”  
   
***  
   
Climbing into the the rear seat of the Dragon suit was a little tricky; Pathfinder’s legs were longer than the average, and Compass Rose had to straddle his lap in order to fit.  She helped him do up his restraints.  
   
As the cockpit closed over their heads, Compass Rose snuggled in to Pathfinder’s embrace, and unclipped the lower part of his mask.  
   
“Hi,” she murmured, kissing him gently.  
   
“Hi,” he murmured back, returning the kiss.  
   
She reached down between them. “I wonder if we could ...”  
   
He grinned.  “Sure, but I’d have to remove certain items of clothing.”  
   
The Dragon suit roared to life, and lifted off on jets of blue flame.  
   
 _“When you’re ready,”_  Miss Militia said over the intercom.  
   
Compass Rose nodded.  She kissed Pathfinder again; they needed skin contact, and his hands were currently cupping her butt, quite enjoyably.  
   
The PRT guards on the roof saw the craft disappear in a cloud of purple-brown smoke.  
   
***  
   
They were hovering over an arid landscape.  Almost directly below, a monstrous form thundered over the landscape, multiple legs kicking up dust as it headed for the distant horizon.  A single helicopter circled it lazily.  
   
 _“All units, all units,”_ broadcast Miss Militia.   _“Operation Dragon Drop is a go.”_  
   
 _“Roger,”_  replied the PRT personnel in the helicopter.   _“Commence Operation Dragon Drop.”_  
   
Miss Militia had been trained in the use of these Dragon suits, and Dragon herself was acting as backup pilot. She brought the suit down in a long swooping run at Crawler’s rear end, but the massive creature was faster than it looked.  Abruptly braking, she pulled up as Crawler spun around and lunged for it.  
   
 _“Can you ‘port us close enough to grab him?”_  she said over the intercom.  
   
Pathfinder stopped kissing Compass Rose long enough to say, “Let him grab us.  The armour on this can take the hit long enough.”  
   
 _“Huh,”_  said Miss Militia.   _“Okay.  It just feels ... wrong, to deliberately allow an enemy to strike me.”_  
   
“Even if he rips our jets off, I can still ‘port us to a safe landing,” Pathfinder pointed out.  
   
 _“Your point is well made. Very well.  Commencing second run.”_  
   
Pathfinder wrapped his arms around Compass Rose, who willingly reciprocated.  Their lips met once more.  
   
The Dragon suit swooped down; Crawler once more turned to meet it, but this time Miss Militia did not shy from contact.    
   
The impact was bruising, but Pathfinder kept hold of Compass Rose.  
   
“I have him!” shouted Miss Militia, audible even without the intercom, over the scream of the jets.  
   
Tentacles coiled past the windows.  And Crawler, apparently, had them.  The jets laboured, but were unable to lift the mass of the monster they were now grappling with.  
   
In the back seat, the two capes kissed once more.  Body contact was established.  
   
The Dragon suit, Crawler and all, disappeared from under the baking sun.  
   
***  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and the ungainly combination reappeared, in the depths of a shaft that had been tunneled straight down into the living rock.  
   
There were no aquifers, no underground water, nothing here except ... rock.  
   
Very thick rock.  
   
Jets screamed as Dragon and Miss Militia tried to stabilise the craft against the motion of the creature that was doing its best to climb on top of it and gain entry.  
   
They bumped, jarringly, against the side of the shaft.  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed again, and Crawler was left without any means of support.  
   
 ** _“OOOHHHH FUUUCCCKKK YOOOUUU!”_**  he bellowed, in his discordant multiple voices, as he fell.  
   
***  
   
The Dragon craft appeared high in the sky, skidding sideways, jets flaring as Miss Militia and Dragon worked to bring it under control.  It didn’t take long; however, even after it was on an even keel, red lights flared across the control panel, showing what damage it had taken.  
   
 _“So, did it work?”_  asked Miss Militia, over the intercom.  
   
***  
   
Crawler hit the bottom of the shaft with an impact that broke several of his major bones, and liquefied one or two of his organs.  But he was on his feet within seconds, looking around.  
   
The shaft was twenty yards across, and it featured four metal pillars, one in each corner, and a large display screen, easily ten feet across.  
   
The screen lit with a picture of the Chief Director of the PRT, Roberta Costa-Brown.  
   
 _“Crawler,”_  she intoned _.  “By the powers invested in me, and in accordance with the kill order that has been placed on your head for your individual crimes, as well as those committed while in the Slaughterhouse Nine, I now sentence you to – SKRRZZZK!”_  
   
The screen shattered and shorted out, as Crawler ripped it from the wall and stomped on the smoking remains.  
   
A few seconds later, unseen speakers continued with Costa-Brown’s voice.   _“- to death.  You now have ten seconds to make peace with your actions.  May God have mercy on your soul.”_  
   
All four metal pillars lit with red LEDs.   **10.**

**9**

**8**

**7**

_Do they expect me to try to **stop**  this? _wondered Crawler.  
   
He raised his multiple hands with fists clenched in triumph.  
   
 ** _“FUCKING BRING IT!”_** he bellowed, as the timers ticked to zero.  
   
As last words went, they weren’t bad.  
   
***  
   
A jet of flame struck upward from a point a dozen miles away; the rumble of the detonation reached them some moments later.  
   
“It  appears to have worked,” observed Pathfinder dryly.  
   
 _“Did he even try to break the bombs?”_  asked Miss Militia.  
   
Compass Rose shook her head, even though the older woman could not see her.  “No.  He just ... let it happen.”  
   
 _“But is he dead?”_  persisted Miss Militia.  
   
“Oh, yes,” said Compass Rose. “Very thorougly.”  
   
 _“Good,”_ said Miss Militia.   _“You can take us home now.”_

***  
   
Purple-brown smoke bloomed, and the Dragon craft, a little the worse for wear, settled on to the landing stage.  The cockpit opened, and all three figures climbed out, Pathfinder settling his mask back into place.   
   
When the applause started, they all looked up in surprise.  In the few moments that they’d been gone, the Wards and Protectorate capes had assembled on the roof, along with what PRT staff could be spared from regular duties. And they were all clapping.  
   
Armsmaster stepped forward. “Well done,” he said.   _“Very_  well done, indeed.”  He nodded to Miss Militia.  “I’ll see you in briefing room three.  The Director wants the after-action report.”  
   
Miss Militia inclined her head. “Sir.”  She turned to Compass Rose and Pathfinder, and shook their hands, one after the other.  “I’ll see you two later,” she said, then turned to follow Armsmaster.  
   
The rest of the Protectorate, as well as the Wards, surrounded them, shaking their hands, slapping them on the back, and generally congratulating them.  
   
“So, wait,” said Compass Rose, once the noise died down a bit.  “You were waiting on us?  You  _knew_  we’d succeed?”  
   
Kid Win hugged her. “Well, duh,” he said cheerfully. “Who’s gonna bet against Compass Rose and Pathfinder?”  
   
She grinned at him and hugged him back.  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said.  
   
***  
   
Assault shook Pathfinder’s hand.  “Well,” he said, “you’ve managed to raise the bar.  Again.” He grinned.  “What’s next?  An Endbringer?”  
   
Pathfinder shook his head. “Christ,” he said.  “I hope not.”  
   
***  
   
Brian stirred the casserole on the stove while Aisha lounged on the sofa, channel-surfing.  
   
“Smells good, big bro,” she called out.  “You been taking lessons?”  
   
“Hey,” he replied, “you live on your own for a while, you learn how, or you end up eating a lot of takeout.” He paused.  “Maybe you could stand to learn to cook as well.”  
   
She made a rude sound with her lips.  “As if.”  She stopped on a news channel, which showed PRT craft cautiously circling around a smoking hole in the ground.  “Huh.  What’s this?”  
   
“What’s what?” he called out from the kitchen.  
   
“Something on the news ... holy shit.  I think I know where they went.”  
   
“Where?” he asked, wandering into the living room with a spoon in his hand.  
   
“To kill Crawler.”  
   
He stared at the TV.  “You’re kidding.”  After a moment reading the banner title, he changed his mind.  “You’re not kidding.”  
   
Aisha stared at the screen. “Holy fuck.”  
   
“Just between you and me,” suggested Brian, “I think you should start being more polite to them.”  
   
Aisha nodded.  “I think you’re right, big bro.  I think you’re right.”

 


	22. Wild Monkey Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor lets Chris down easy, Missy goes on a not-a-date with Dean, Amy and Vicky continue to explore their relationship. In bed. A lot. 
> 
> And then something really big happens.

Taylor clung to the end of Danny’s bed, breath hissing through her teeth.  Clad only in her costume with the strategic cutouts, she was bent over, back arched, sweat soaking through the thin cloth.  
   
Behind her, Danny held on to her hips as he thrust his rampant erection deep between her taut buttocks.  She grunted with each stroke, felt his penis stretch her anus wide as he rammed himself to the hilt within her tightest orifice, again and again and again.  Her exposed breasts, nipples swollen with her arousal, bobbed back and forth as she was jolted forward by the force of each stroke.  
   
“Fuck, yes, Dad,” she groaned, clenching her rectal passage tight around his thrusting member.  “I needed this so bad.”  
   
He grinned, baring his teeth, his scrotum slapping against her distended labia with each powerful stroke.  Fucking Taylor was good at any time, but fucking her ass like this, while she wore that costume, drove him to whole new levels of arousal.  
   
“So did ... you let ... Chris fuck ... your ass?” he asked, timing his words between the strokes.  
   
“No,” she grunted, arching her back as a particularly powerful stroke hit her in a sensitive spot.  “Oh yeah.  No, just vanilla sex.  Came in me a bunch, though.”  
   
“Chance of ... pregnancy?” asked Danny, running his hands over Taylor’s thinly-clad buttocks and thighs as he continued to fuck her mercilessly.  
   
“Nope, I saw Amy,” Taylor managed.    
   
***  
   
“Amy!” said Taylor, holding out her arms.  “Vicky!”  
   
Amy Dallon smiled broadly and hugged Taylor closely.  Victoria waited till her sister finished hugging the Ward, then took her turn in hugging her.  Then she put her hands on either side of Taylor’s face and gave her a firm kiss on the lips.  
   
Taylor giggled.  “Wow, what was  _that_  for?”  
   
“For giving Amy the idea to come out to me,” said Vicky.  “She told me the whole story.  And now she’s happy, and I’m happy, and it’s all due to you.  So, a kiss for thank-you.”  
   
Taylor grinned.  “You could have just said ‘thank you’, you know.”  
   
Vicky shook her head.  “It was also an invitation, of sorts.  If you ever want to try out something new.  Amy and me together.”  She looked Taylor in the eye.  “Because we’re really,  _really_  grateful.”  
   
Taylor smiled and put a hand on her arm.  “I appreciate the offer, really, I do.  But I don’t really think I’m into girls.  Or most guys.  Just my dad, mainly.”  
   
Amy raised an eyebrow.  “And what about Chris?”  
   
Taylor rolled her eyes.  “Okay, fine, I slept with Chris.  And it was fun.”  She paused.  “Which is more or less why I’m here.”  
   
“Oh?” asked Amy.  
   
“Yeah,” said Taylor.  “I want you to make me infertile for, say, six months.  Because I’ve been having sex with Dad since Christmas, but he’s got that vasectomy.  I think he’ll be asking you to reverse that, sometime soon.  I want to keep having sex with him, without needing protection.  And with Chris, maybe, if I feel like it.”  
   
Amy nodded, and put her hand on Taylor’s arm.  “So, why sleep with Chris at all?” asked Vicky.    
   
“To see if it was any good,” said Taylor.  “I mean, before all this shit happened, I was a virgin, because none of the jocks would even look my way.  Partly because of the three bitches, partly because I was a nerd and a geek.”  She shrugged.  “My Dad was my first sexual partner.  So I wanted to know if having sex with someone my age would be better, worse, indifferent.”  
   
Amy raised an eyebrow.  “So ...?” she asked.  
   
Taylor grinned.  “Nice enough that I won’t rule out a return engagement, but not so great that I’ll make a habit of it.”  
   
Amy reached up, cupped Taylor’s chin in her hand.  “Vicky was serious about the offer, if you ever want to find out if having sex with two girls your age is just as nice,” she said softly.  She tugged Taylor’s face down level with hers, and placed a delicate kiss on her lips, an echo to her sister’s.  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Well, like I said, I don’t think I’m into girls.”  
   
Vicky grinned.  “I didn’t think I was either.  But then Amy talked me into kissing her.”  
   
“Hah, you wish,” Amy retorted.  “ _You_  decided to kiss  _me_ , to see what it was like with a girl.  You made that choice entirely of your own accord.”  
   
Vicky gathered her into a hug.  “Did I even hint that I regretted it?” she asked softly.  
   
Amy turned her face up to her sister’s, and they shared a slow, lingering kiss.  
   
“No,” she breathed.  
   
“Well then,” said Vicky.  She turned to Taylor and grinned.  “Sorry, but we have to go.  I have to get my sister home and rip all her clothes off.”  
   
“Okay, see you later,” began Taylor, but suddenly there was a rush of wind, and she found herself talking to the air.  
   
She grinned as she started home.   _Well,_ they’re  _happy._  
  
***  
   
Taylor cried out and arched her back as Danny’s hammering strokes drove her quivering body over the edge into a blinding orgasm.  She clung to the bed, eyes squeezed shut, as he continued to ram his hard penis into her thoroughly tenderised bottom.  He felt her climax, let it drive him into his own spectacular orgasm; his cock jerked and then exploded deep between her buttocks, filling her bowels with jet after jet of hot white semen.  
   
She felt him cumming inside her, and came again; the multiplied sensations blasted back and forth between them, to push their mutual pleasure to ever more spectacular heights.  
   
By the time the feedback loop finally petered out, both Danny and Taylor were exhausted, shaking, and on their knees.  Taylor still clung to  the end of the bed, as to a lifeline.  
   
Danny teleported them both on to the bed, even as his deflating erection slipped out of her twitching ass.  She smiled and snuggled up to him, kissing and caressing him.  At a touch, he teleported the costume off her body.  
   
“That was awesome,” she murmured.  “I never knew we could do it that many times in a row.”  
   
“Me neither,” he agreed, sweat running down his face.  “How’s your butt?”  His hand caressed the area in question.  
   
“Well, you came in there three times already,” she giggled.  “But the last time was the best.  I love it when you’re that rough with me, when I’m ready for it.”  She wriggled slightly.  “I might want to hold off on the anal for a while, though.  I think I’ll be sore for a few days.”  
   
 _“You’ll_  be sore?” snorted Danny.  “You were squeezing me so tight it felt like you were skinning me alive.”  
   
She giggled and kissed him.  “You love it,” she told him.  “Don’t deny it.”  
   
He kissed her back.  “Not denying it,” he stated.  “Just making a comment.”  
   
They were quiet for a time, just enjoying the closeness and the afterglow from truly awesome sex, then she giggled.  
   
“Hm?” he asked.  
   
“It’s a good thing Brian knows how to cook,” she murmured with a grin and a kiss.  
   
“Why’s that?” he asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.  
   
“Because all we’ve done this week is eat, sleep and screw.”  
   
As generalised statements went, it was a fairly accurate one.  Pathfinder and Compass Rose had found themselves with not much to do, since Director Piggot had ordered them to take some down-time.  As a result, they had been spending a lot more time with each other, even with their new house-guests in resdence.  And when Brian and Aisha went out during the day, the sex began.  
   
The down-time was the result of a rumour going around about a super-powered assassin making the rounds.  Crawler had been written off as a PRT coup, but with the deaths of Heartbreaker and Valefor, people had started talking.  
   
***  
   
Alec looked up as they wheeled a large-screen TV into his room.  
   
“What’s this?” he asked.  
   
“Something you might want to see,” explained Armsmaster, entering the room as the techs began setting up the equipment.  
   
“Oh god, it’s not another inspirational fucking video from Glenn, is it?” groaned Alec.  “I swear, one more of those, I’ll be slitting my fucking wrists.”  
   
Armsmaster shook his head.  “Inspirational, yes.  From Glenn, no.”  
   
The techs were finished; he ordered them from the room.  Then he picked up the remote and pressed the correct button.  
   
The picture was grainy and jumpy, but Alec tensed all the same.  “That’s ...”  
   
Armsmaster nodded.  “Your father’s house, yes.”  
   
“Where are you getting this footage  _from?”_  Alec wanted to know.  
   
Armsmaster opened his hand, and a tiny buzzing object made its way to Alec, circled his head, then returned to the armoured hero.  “A collaboration between myself and Dragon,” he explained.  
   
“Ah.”  Alec turned his attention back to the screen.  A very familiar face had just entered the picture; despite himself, he shrank back slightly.  “Heartbreaker,” he whispered.  
   
Armsmaster nodded.  “Indeed.”  
   
The picture switched to a different location, looking down from an angle at ... “Is that a  _toilet?”_  
  
The door on the screen opened, and Heartbreaker entered the small room.  
   
“Wait,” said Alec.  “You’ve got footage of my  _dad_  going to the  _bathroom?”_  
  
“Just watch,” commanded Armsmaster.  
   
Alec sighed and watched.  Nico Vasil was not an imposing man, but he would always stand tall in his son’s mind, looming over everything else.  But sitting on the toilet, he was just the same as everyone else –  
   
“Wait, what was that?”  
   
A puff of smoke on the screen, and something small and round fell on to Heartbreaker’s lap.  
   
And then there was nothing but flame and debris.  The screen went blank.  
   
Alec struggled for words.  “Did you just ...  _assassinate_  ... my dad?  For me?”  
   
Armsmaster looked straight at him.  “Nico Vasil had a kill order on his head.  He destroyed the lives of hundreds of innocents.  We didn’t do it  _just_  for you.”  
   
He called the techs back into the room, and they removed the TV.  As it was wheeled out the door, Armsmaster turned to Alec.  “Think about it,” he said.  And then he was gone, too.  
   
 _Well, fuck._   Alec lay back on the pillows.  He had a lot to think about.  
   
He didn't have as much time as he'd thought, however.  Moments after the door closed, Aisha got up from the chair in which she had been sitting.  
   
"Well," she declared.   _"That_  was kinda cool."  
   
Alec jumped.  "How long have you been here?" he demanded.  
   
Aisha grinned.  "Long enough to watch you trying to put the moves on that nurse, and getting shot down in flames," she said cheerfully.  
   
"No, I mean, how did you get in here?" he asked.  "I'm sure I would have noticed."  
   
She grinned wickedly.  "My secret, dweeb."  
   
His eyes went wide.  "You've got powers - you're a  _cape!"_  
   
Her grin widened.  "Got it in one."  
   
He stared at her.  "Does Brian know?"  
   
Aisha's grin was positively impish.  "In good time.  I have ideas for a few pranks first."   
   
***  
   
Danny nibbled Taylor’s ear.  She murmured in pleasure, rolled over, caressed his body.  
   
“So,” he said softly, “have you gotten back to Chris yet?”  
   
She kissed him.  “Yeah,” she replied.  “He’s still coming to terms with the fact that it was just a fun date with no strings attached, but he’s getting there.”  
   
***  
   
Taylor and Chris sat side by side on the bed in his quarters.  
   
“Taylor ...” he said softly.  
   
She smiled at him, and kissed him gently.  He went to put his hand up under her top, but she pushed it away again.  
   
“I’m not here for sex, Chris,” she said quietly.  “A little makeout session, sure.  A kiss and a cuddle.  But not sex.”  
   
“But the other night, we ...” he began, looking confused.  
   
“That was the other night,” she said.  “I wanted to know if sex with someone my own age could be as much  fun as it is with Pathfinder.”  
   
“And was it?” he asked hopefully.  
   
She smiled and kissed him again.  “It was great,” she told him.  “I might even do it again.  But ... not right now, okay?”  
   
He sighed.  “Okay,” he said.    
   
She grinned and put her arms around him.  “Hey,” she said.  “Now that you know a bit more about sex than you did before, you should be able to wow the ladies.”  
   
 _“What_  ladies?” he retorted.  “Shadow Stalker’s gone, Rachel would break me in half just for asking, Insight's not interested, and Vista’s what, twelve?”  
   
“Thirteen,” she corrected.   
   
“Thirteen, whatever,” he said.  “Plus, she’s more interested in Gallant.”  
   
She nodded.  “You’re right there.  But you know, there’s more than just the Wards.  You could date civilians.”. She paused.  "Aisha, for instance."  
   
"I asked her," he said mournfully.  "She laughed.  No - she  _cackled_.". He shuddered.  "Not going there again."  
   
"Well," she said with a consoling hand on his shoulder, "you could try asking girls who  _don't_ have ex-supervillains for brothers."  
   
“I  _suppose,”_  he said doubtfully.  “But you’ll always be ...”  he trailed off.  
   
She nodded and kissed him again.  “And you’ll always be special in my heart too,” she assured him.  “If I had met you socially sometime, and you had asked me out, I probably would have said yes.”  
   
He smiled and kissed her in return.   _It’s not perfect, but I’ll take what I can get,_  he told himself.  
   
***  
   
"Hey, Dean, what's up?" chirped Vista, plopping down into the seat beside him.  
   
"Oh, hey, Missy," the older hero greeted her morosely.  "My powers suck."  
   
"How's that?" she asked him.  
   
"Well, you'd think that I could figure out what people are thinking, if I knew what emotions they're feeling, right?"   
   
She nodded.  "You usually can, right?"  
   
"Yeah," he grunted.  "Except that I have  _no idea_  what's going through Vicky's head.  I really don't."  
   
"Why, what do you mean?" she asked.  
   
"I thought we were going well," he groaned.  "I'd gone on a few really good dates with her, and she was really, uh, friendly," he amended on the fly for his younger teammate.  
   
"You mean, she had sex with you," she said bluntly.  "I'm thirteen, Dean, not eight.  I know about the birds and the bees, and what happens when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much."  
   
He flushed, as much at the cutting tone of her voice as at her choice of words.  "Uh, yeah," he admitted.  
   
"And then what happened?" she asked.  
   
" _Nothing_ ," he said, frustrated.  "Between one week and the next.  I don't hear from her for a week, and then when I do get in contact with her, she simply tells me we're done.  Finished.". He threw up his hands.  "We didn't even have a fight, this time!"   
   
"Did she say why?" asked Missy.  
   
He shook his head.  "Just that she had someone else now, and she was happy."  
   
She shook her head.  "Wow, that sucks," she said sympathetically.  
   
He gave her a flat look.  "You've got a really good poker face, but don't think I didn't pick up the fireworks in your brain just now.  You're being nice because I'm down, but you're really happy that Vicky's dumped me, aren't you?"  
   
It was her turn to flush.  "Uh, yeah," she admitted in a small voice.  Then she looked him straight in the eye.  "And you know why," she challenged him.  
   
"Yeah," he nodded.  "I guess I do."  
   
"You know how I feel about you," Missy went on.  "You know I'd never do something as mean as Vicky's done to you.". His answering nod was faint, but it was there.  
   
"So tell me," she went on implacably, "why you've never, not once, looked at me like that.  Like you look at Vicky."  
   
He sighed, trying to word his rejection as kindly as possible.  "Missy," he said.  "I'm three years older than you.  It would look  _wrong_  for a sixteen year old to be dating a thirteen year old."  
   
"Really?" she asked sweetly.  "Or is it more to do with the fact that the thirteen year old looks eleven, and that you aren't attracted to me, because I look too young?"  
   
He winced.  "I'm supposed to be the Thinker, not you," he protested.  
   
“So  _think_  about it,” she retorted.  “Being three years younger than you just means that when I’m sixteen, you’ll be nineteen.  And when I’m nineteen, you’ll be twenty-two.  No-one will even look twice at us.”  
   
“That doesn’t change matters here and now,” he pointed out.  
   
She sighed.  “Fine.  I look like a kid, and you aren’t interested.  I get it.  You want someone who’s actually  _developed.”_   She started to get up, fighting back tears.   _I’m an idiot to think he’d even look at me twice._  
   
“Wait a moment,” he said.  She stopped, turning to look at him.  
   
“Listen,” he told her.  “You came over to see how I was.  I appreciate that.  You listened to me.  And I get that you’ve got that crush, that you’re attracted to me.”  He grimaced.  “I can’t do much about that.  But we can do stuff.  Go to the movies or something, out of costume.  Get to know each other better.  Not boyfriend and girlfriend, you understand.  Just ... friends.  Good friends.  Okay?”  
   
He could see the sunburst of happiness that spread out from her, and he smiled involuntarily.   _She really does care for me._   “Yeah,” she said, her face lighting up in echo of the emotions that he perceived.  “Yeah, that’ll be really great.   Thanks.”  
   
Standing up, he pulled her into a rough hug; she put her arms around him.  They stood like that for a moment, then disengaged.  “Now,” he said.  “I heard that there’s a new Earth Aleph movie in at the cinemas.  Want to go see?”  
   
“Sure,” she grinned up at him.  “Let’s do that.”  
   
 _It’s a start,_  she thought as they walked out of the room.   _At least now he’s paying attention to me._  
   
***  
   
Brian and Aisha stepped off the bus and strolled down the sidewalk toward the Hebert house.  
   
“So, did you have a good day at school?” he asked.  
   
“I had a good day,” she replied with a grin.  
   
“At school?” he pressed.  
   
She rolled her eyes.  “Not so much, big bro.  Got bored, so I went and visited Alec.  He’s getting better.”  
   
“Seriously, Aisha,” said Brian.  “If Child Services is going to okay us staying with Danny and Taylor, you need to show that you’re making an effort.  Going to school is a big start.”  
   
“Yeah, I know,” she groaned.  “But it’s just so … bor-ring.”  
   
“Stick to it,” he advised.  “You’ll find something you like.”  
   
“Yeah,” she retorted.  “Recess.”  
   
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he told her, trying for a severe tone.  She gave him the finger, more or less out of habit.  
   
“So, do you think they’ll have finished with the wild monkey sex by the time we get back?” she asked.  
   
Brian stared at her.  “Wild mon –  Aisha, what the hell have you been doing?”  
   
She hunched her shoulders.  “Went home after I left school.  Came in the front door and they were doing it on the sofa.  Seriously, not something an impressionable child of my age should be exposed to.  So I went in to visit Alec.”  
   
Brian stared.  “So what did they say when they saw you?”  
   
She half-shrugged.  “They didn’t see me?”  
   
Brian raised an eyebrow.  “Huh.  I am impressed.  They’re very hard to sneak up on, especially by people they know.”  
   
“Hey,” said Aisha, striking a ridiculous pose.  “I am ninja master.”  She made several strikes and blocks, one of which nearly left her on her butt, and mimed badly dubbed dialogue; “You will fight me now and die!”  
   
Brian snorted with amusement.  “If they ask you, own up to it, okay?  And try to get to school more often.”  
   
She rolled her eyes as they walked up the path toward the front door.  “Yes, mom.”  
   
At that moment, the sirens went off.  
   
***  
   
Dean and Missy entered the cineplex, looking around to see what was playing soon.  Missy wished she had the nerve to grab Dean’s hand, but figured he’d probably consider it pushing the boundaries.  
   
“So what do you want to watch?” asked Dean.  
   
Missy shrugged.  “Oh, anything’s good,” she said.   _I’m going to the movies with Gallant!_ she exulted.   _It’s not a date, but whooo!_  
   
He raised an eyebrow.  “I get the impression that I could suggest Twilight and you’d agree to it.”  
   
She grinned unrepentantly.  “Bring it on.”  
   
“Okay,” he said, a grin spreading across his own face.  “I choose …”  
   
And at that moment, the sirens went off.  
   
***  
   
Vicky lay across Amy’s lap, naked but for the blindfold, the fluffy handcuffs and the see-through lacy panties.  Amy was minus even that; she was thorougly naked, and each sister was acutely aware of the other’s warm skin through the contact.  
   
“You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” said Amy, attempting a severe tone.  
   
“I’m so sorry,” said Vicky meekly.  “I shouldn’t have kissed her.”  
   
Amy slapped her on the barely-covered butt.  Vicky had left her force field down for the occasion, and she squeaked as the impact registered.  
   
“You don’t  _sound_  sorry to me,” Amy intoned, and slapped her again.  Vicky jumped.  “I think you wanted to have sex with her.”  
   
“I’m sorry,” said Vicky, trying to sound contrite, when what she was feeling was highly aroused.  “She was so sexy, and I wanted to surprise you with her.”  
   
Amy continued to spank her sister, pausing only to pull her panties down and off, before resuming the punishment.  Vicky sobbed and twisted and pretended to struggle, arousing both of them considerably.  
   
“Now, get up on the bed,” snapped Amy.  “I’ll show you what happens to naughty girls.”  
   
“Oh yes, please,” breathed Vicky.  It was arousing to dominate Amy and force her to do her will, but she had found it to be equally enjoyable to let Amy do these things to her.  They both got off on it so very much.  
   
Cheating just a bit with her flight, she got off of  Amy’s lap and posed herself with her knees on the edge of the bed, thighs well apart, face down.  
   
Amy went to get the strap-on dildo with which Vicky had deflowered her – and with which each of them had violated the other in oh so many ways – and approached her from behind.  She ran her hands over Vicky’s back and down over her ribs, reaching under to caress Vicky’s breasts, tweaking the nipples.  Vicky moaned at the sensation, feeling the dildo sliding up and down between her ass cheeks.  
   
Alternately caressing and then slapping Vicky’s butt, Amy carefully positioned the head of the dildo between Vicky’s labia, at the entrance to her wet and willing vaginal canal.  
   
“Do you want this, you bad girl?” she asked, slapping Vicky on the butt once more.  
   
“Oh, yes,” moaned Vicky, driven almost out of her mind by the foreplay.  “Do it to me.”  
   
Amy smiled, licking her lips.  She so enjoyed doing this with her sister, having it done to her.  Vicky liked a light spanking, while Amy liked it hard enough to leave bruises.  
   
 _It’s funny,_  she mused at the back of her mind.   _I’m fragile and I like it rough.  Vicky’s tough and she likes it gentle.  What does that say about us?_  
   
Slowly, she began to slide the dildo into her sister’s slippery depths.  Vicky arched her back and cried out as her vagina was invaded, pushing back against it as Amy thrust into her.  
   
Amy had just hit a good rhythm, with Vicky moaning and panting under her, when the sirens went off.  
   
***  
   
Water streamed over Taylor’s face and body.  The wall of the shower cubicle was at her back, and she had her arms and legs wrapped around Danny’s body.  He kissed her as he steadily thrust into her tight wet vaginal canal; she moaned in time with his thrusts, digging her nails into his back.  
   
Hot slippery soapy shower sex was one of her very favourites; her swollen labia were stretched to their utmost as Danny’s long penis bedded itself to the very limit inside her slippery depths.  She worked her hips back and forth, lending an extra fillip to the sensations boiling inside both of them.  
   
She arched her back and groaned as she came around him, then kissed him avidly, her tongue duelling with his.  Supporting her weight easily, he slid his member deep into her vaginal canal, slowly and steadily, keeping his own arousal under control as he drove Taylor slowly but steadily out of her mind with sheer pleasure.  
   
“They just got off the bus,” she murmured into his ear, then kissed him again.  
   
“Okay,” he groaned, and stepped up the pace.  She opened her eyes wide as she felt a whole new series of orgasms approaching.  When they hit, they blasted through Danny as thoroughly as they did Taylor, and triggered his own climax.  She came, repeatedly, as his cock spurted jet after jet of hot semen deep inside her womb.  
   
“Oh god,” she groaned, as he let her down, and his penis slid out of her.  “That just keeps getting better and better.”  
   
“I think we just keep getting better and better at it,” he observed with a grin.  
   
“Not arguing,” she grinned back, washing herself off.  She stepped from the shower and grabbed her towel, and started drying off.  While Danny was still getting dry, she dressed and wandered downstairs to greet Brian and Aisha.    
   
She supposed from the flushed look that it would not be impossible for them to figure out what she’d been up to with Danny, but that wasn’t anything she was worried about.  
   
Just as she reached the front door, the sirens went off.  
   
***  
   
An Endbringer had come to Brockton Bay.


	23. Enter the Endbringer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Vicky get caught out. Leviathan meets Pathfinder and Compass Rose.

Taylor opened the door to see Brian and Aisha on the path.  “Come on, get inside!” she shouted.  
   
They reacted, breaking from their instinctive freeze, and bolted into the house.  
   
“Which one is it?” asked Brian.  
   
“Don’t know,” Taylor said grimly.  She grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV.  She didn’t have to choose a channel; the warning was on all of them.  
   
 _“- than is approaching the city. All citizens, move away from the waterfront and either seek high ground or go to your nearest Endbringer shelter.”_

The voice was calm, emotionless.  She wondered if it was computer generated.  
   
A graphic came up, showing a map of Brockton Bay, overlaid with flood map colours.  A blinking red dot was visible offshore.  Little winking green symbols scattered over the map indicated Endbringer shelters.  
   
 _“If you are in the red zone, leave NOW.  Do not stop to grab anything more than arms’ length away.  Leave NOW NOW NOW.  If you are in the orange zone, grab anything that you need, but do not take more than five minutes.  If you are in the yellow zone, you have ten minutes of leeway.  If you are in the green zone, you have half an hour.”_  
   
Taylor noted that there was no green zone.  
   
The graphic changed to a cartoon image of a skyscraper.  Blinking red arrows next to it pointed up and down from about the fifth floor.  
   
 _“If you are in a tall building, go to the roof or a high floor. Stay away from windows.  If you are at or near ground level, go to your nearest Endbringer shelter.”_  
   
The banner at the bottom was scrolling. Taylor focused on it.  LEVIATHAN APPROACHING CITY.  EVACUATE LOW LYING AREAS.  SEEK HIGH GROUND OR ENDBRINGER SHELTER.  LEVIATHAN APPROACHING CITY ...  
   
The voice began its spiel once more.   _“Leviathan is approaching the city.  All citizens ...”_

“What zone are we in?” asked Brian.  His voice seemed strangely strangled.  
   
“Orange,” said Taylor.  “Five minutes.”  
   
“We’ll need less than that,” Danny said, even as he appeared in a billow of smoke.  “Brian, are you fighting?”  
   
“Maybe I can blind him?” suggested Brian.  “But Aisha has to get to a shelter ...”  
   
“Fuck that!” snapped the girl.  “Taylor can fight, I can fight!”  
   
“Aisha,” said Taylor, trying to be gentle about it, “Brian has powers.  So do Dad and I.  You don’t.”  
   
“Like fuck I don’t,” snapped Aisha.    
   
“You’ve got powers?” asked Brian.  
   
“Who’s got powers?” asked Taylor.  
   
“What about powers?” asked Danny.  
   
Aisha appeared in the middle of them.  
   
“Holy crap!” snapped Brian.  “What the fuck, Aisha?”  
   
“I can turn sort of invisible,” Aisha said proudly.  “I can fight.”  
   
Brian grimaced.  “I don’t like it ...”  
   
“If she’s got powers, and she chooses, it’s her right,” said Danny quietly.  “You have to let her make her own decisions eventually.”  
   
“Arrr _right!”_ crowed Aisha.  
   
“But you don’t get close to him!” snapped Brian. “You stay out of the way.  You help people who are hurt, stuff like that!”  
   
“Well, duh,” she said.  “I wasn’t exactly gonna take him on in hand to hand.”  
   
“... good,” he said.  “Danny, can I have my costume –“  
   
Taylor put her hand on Danny’s arm.  Grue’s costume, neatly folded, with the helmet on top, was suddenly in Danny’s hands, in a cloud of dissipating purple-brown smoke.  
   
“Fuck,” said Aisha.  “That’s very fuckin’ impressive.”  
   
As Brian took his costume, Taylor’s costume appeared in turn, piecemeal.  Taylor took each piece as it arrived.  Not even bothering to run upstairs to her bedroom, she stripped to her underwear and began climbing into the costume.  
   
 _“Dang,”_  said Aisha.  “Nice body there, Taylor.”  She turned to Brian, who was donning his Grue costume.  “You see that ass, big bro?”  
   
“Aisha!” snapped Brian.  “Enough!”  
   
Taylor was blushing furiously, but was not pausing in her dressing efforts.  Strangely, although she had not been fazed by showing her body to Chris, she felt embarrassed by Aisha commenting on it.  
   
Next, Danny got his own costume, and put it on over the t-shirt and boxers that he was wearing.  
   
The moment they were costumed up, Danny grasped Brian with one hand; Taylor took his hand and grabbed Aisha with the other.  
   
They went.  
   
***  
   
“Oh fuck,” groaned Amy.  She started to pull the dildo out of Victoria.  
   
“Don’t you fucking dare, Amy Dallon,” growled Vicky. “You will finish fucking me, or I’ll make you wait a  _year_  before I fuck you again.”  
   
Grabbing Victoria’s hips anew, Amy resumed pumping the dildo between her slick labia, shoving harder with each thrust.  Vicky groaned and pushed back at her.  It didn’t actually take forever for Vicky to reach orgasm; it just felt that way.  
   
But it did mean that when the bedroom door was flung open by Carol Dallon, she caught both girls  _in flagrante_  extremely  _delicto_.  
   
Vicky was face-down on the bed, panting from the intensity of the orgasm; Amy was just pulling the dildo out of her. Carol stared, then exclaimed, “What in God’s name are you two doing?”  
   
Amy was suddenly and totally tongue-tied. Vicky raised herself on her elbows and looked at her mother.  “Fucking, Mom.  Amy and I are fucking. Get used to it.”  
   
“But you’re  _sisters!”_ snapped Carol.  “That’s illegal!  And immoral!”  
   
“Only by adoption,” Victoria pointed out. “We’re not related, remember? You’re all about how Amy isn’t really your daughter.”  
   
“Can we deal with this  _after_  the Endbringer?” Amy pleaded.  
   
Carol turned to her, her expression cold. “After the Endbringer ...” she said harshly, “you can find another place to live.  Because you’re not living under my roof.”  
   
“Fine,” said Vicky.  “We’ll find a place together.”  
   
Carol stared.  “What –“  
   
Vicky was looking through her closet and pulling on her top over her naked breasts.   _“After_  the fucking Endbringer, Mom.  Fuck’s sake. Priorities.”  She looked for the shorts she normally wore under the skirt, grabbed a pair of frilly panties instead.  Pulled on the boots, fitted the tiara.  
   
Amy sidled past Carol and into her own room. Her robes took but a second to pull on; it shouldn’t matter to anyone that she was naked under it.  She did take a moment to unstrap the dildo. That would definitely cause comment.  
   
***  
   
“Seriously,” said Vista.  “You have got to be fucking kidding me.  I finally get to go to the movies with you, and an  _Endbringer_  attacks?  What does the world have against me and my happiness?”  
   
"I'm fairly certain that it's not about you and your happiness, Missy," Dean observed gently as he moved alongside her. She was crunching space as fast as she could, to get them back to the PRT building in the least time possible.  
   
Suddenly, she stopped.  Dean stared at her.  "The fuck it's not," she snapped.  "I want one good thing to come out of this day."  
   
He looked at her.  "Like what?"  
   
She faced him defiantly.  "Kiss me," she said.  "Just once.  Like you mean it.  Like I was three years older.  Like I  _mean_ something to you."  
   
"Missy ... " he said helplessly.  "I ..."  
   
Tears were spilling from her eyes, running down her cheeks.  "I might  _die_  today, Dean!" she shouted.   _"You_  might die!  And all I want is one little kiss!  Is that too much to ask?"  
   
He took a deep breath.  "No.  No, it's not."  He stepped toward her.  She opened her arms; they embraced.  She tilted her face up toward his; he leaned down toward her.  
   
She closed her eyes just before their lips met.  
   
She had never been properly kissed by a boy before.  Dean knew how to kiss, and applied everything he knew.  By the time he finished, she was sagging at the knees.  
   
"Are you all right?" he asked in mild concern.  
   
"Hell yeah," she replied with a woozy giggle. "If I'd known you could kiss like  _that_ , I would've held out for a quickie."  
   
"What -  _sex?"_  asked Dean disbelievingly.    
   
She nodded seriously.  "Well, yeah.  Why not?  We could either or both of us be dead tomorrow.  What the hell does it matter if I’m still a virgin then?"  
   
He frowned.  "You're joking, right?"  
   
She nodded and grinned.  "Yeah.  Joking. Right."  
   
He knew she wasn't.   _She feels that strongly about me._  And she hadn't been a bad kisser either.  
   
 _I might look into re-evaluating our relationship after this._  
   
Out loud he said, " Well, you got your kiss. Can we go now?"  
   
She grinned happily at him.  "Oh, definitely."  
   
And as they set off again, Dean could not help but note a certain spring in Missy's step, that had been missing before.  
   
***  
   
Miss Militia looked up as the purple-brown smoke billowed.  "Oh good," she said. "It's you."  
   
They stood in what they presumed to be the staging area, a hotel not far from the Boardwalk.  Grue turned to Pathfinder.  "I see Bitch over there, with Armsmaster.  You go do what you need to do."  
   
Pathfinder nodded.  "Take care," he said.  
   
Compass Rose looked at Miss Militia. "We're doing mass transit now, search and rescue later?"  
   
"Unless we can replicate Dragon Drop with Leviathan," the gun-toting woman noted.  
   
"Can't see it," commented Pathfinder. "Unless ..."  He offered a suggestion.  
   
Miss Militia blinked.  "You think you can pull that off?"  
   
Pathfinder shrugged.  "Don't know till I try."  
   
Miss Militia nodded.  "I'll get on to Dragon about it.  In the meantime, teams are gathering.  I'll have pictures of the team leaders sent to your phone."  
   
"Thanks," acknowledged Compass Rose.  She looked up at her father.  "Let's make ourselves useful."  
   
***  
   
The members of New Wave gathered in the Dallons’ living room.  There was a tension in the air; Panacea was as far away from Brandish as possible. Glory Girl stood with one arm around her sister's shoulders, ignoring her mother's glares.  
   
"So how are we getting to the staging point?" asked Manpower.  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed, then dissipated.  Two figures were standing there.  
   
“… and question asked and answered,” he continued.  “Compass Rose and Pathfinder, I presume?”  
   
“That’s us,” replied the helmeted girl.  “Hi, Amy, Vicky.”  
   
“Hi,” said Amy faintly.  Vicky nodded a greeting.  
   
"Can you handle all of us at once?" asked Shielder.  
   
Compass Rose chuckled.  “Don’t believe the media whitewash.  Hold tight.”  
   
Everyone was holding on to someone else.  Purple-brown smoke billowed, and then dissipated.  They were in the staging area.  There hadn’t even been a jolt.  
   
“Panacea is going on to the hospital, I presume?” asked Pathfinder.  
   
Amy nodded, gave Vicky one last hug, as well as a quick kiss, and then moved over to take Compass Rose’s hand.  
   
Smoke billowed, and then dissipated.  They were gone.  
   
***  
   
“What’s the matter?” asked Compass Rose.  
   
Amy hung her head.  “Mom – Carol – caught me and Vicky, in the act.”  
   
Compass Rose hugged her.  “I’m so sorry.  What happened?”  
   
“I’m being kicked out after all this is over.”  
   
Pathfinder put a hand on Amy’s shoulder.  “If you need a place, we can get a spare bed and you can share a room with Aisha.”  
   
“Oh, uh, Vicky was talking about moving out with me?” ventured Amy.   _Who’s Aisha?_ she wondered.  
   
Compass Rose and Pathfinder shared a quick glance.  “We can handle it,” said Pathfinder.  “For now – good luck.”   
   
Compass Rose consulted her phone, and they were gone again, in the trademark billow of smoke.  
   
Panacea cleared her throat, rolled up her sleeves, and went to help the medics prep for incoming.  
   
***  
   
Compass Rose and Pathfinder ranged across the nation, across the world, bringing in cape teams to help fight the Endbringer known as Leviathan.  The staging area quickly filled up.  They quickly dropped into a routine, and were delivering new teams about once every ten seconds.  
   
And then the Endbringer himself arrived.  
   
***  
   
They were bringing in one of the last groups to volunteer, a bunch of Australians oddly named the Ayers Rock Surf Club.  At the last instant before Pathfinder initiated the jump, Compass Rose found her focus point – Legend – had moved dramatically. She refocused, and the group appeared safely, although ankle-deep in water.  
   
“Struth,” commented Bluey, a massive red-headed man who carried a sledgehammer like a child’s toy.  “Bloody wet season came early.”  
   
“Leviathan,” said Pathfinder by way of explanation, then they went again, to the top of the PRT tower.  
   
Pathfinder pressed both buttons on the wristband he had been given.  
   
“Pathfinder and Compass Rose.  Capes all present and accounted for.  Ready for search and rescue duties.”  
   
A synthesised voice came from the small speaker.   _“Roger, Pathfinder.  Roger, Compass Rose. Stand by.”_  
   
There was a pause barely long enough to catch a breath.    
   
“You okay, kiddo?” asked Pathfinder.  He unhooked the part of his mask that covered his lower face, and they kissed, gently, tenderly, sharing the love and closeness that having their powers had given them.  
   
“Horny as hell,” confessed Compass Rose.  “I want you to take me somewhere dry and make love to me until my eyes cross.”  
   
Pathfinder chuckled and refastened his mask.  “After this,” he promised.  “It’s a date.”  
   
And then the synthesised voice began to reel off names. As had been arranged, they showed up as text on Compass Rose’s wristband.  Only the injured showed up in her text.  Only the ones who would benefit from rescue.  
   
 _Carapacitator down, CD-5._  
 _Krieg down, CD-5._  
 _Iron Falcon down, CD-5._  
 _Saurian down, CD-5..._  
   
They clasped hands.  Purple-brown smoke billowed.  When it dissipated, as much washed away by the torrential rain as blown by the wind, they were gone.  
   
***  
   
“You and you!” shouted Panacea.  “You’re in charge of the gurneys!  Always have one there!  Right in that spot!  Have one ready to put in its place!  If you haven’t got one, get a stretcher!  Our wounded will be arriving there!”  
   
She drew a deep breath, and began to work on healing Carapacitor.  He’d taken a hard hit, but he was still alive.  
   
Even as she did so, the familiar billow of smoke heralded another arrival.  Kreig lay on the ‘incoming’ gurney.  The volunteer orderlies hustled it out of the way, and put another in its place. Amy hastily finished with Carapacitor, and turned to Kreig.  
   
One after another, they arrived, and one after another she healed them.  Sometimes it was all she could do to stabilise them and make sure they’d survive.  Other times, she was able to completely fix an injury; they would tap their wristbands and request  pickup.  
   
She was worked off her feet, barely able to snatch a bite to eat or a sip to drink in between patients.  But there were others there, and it was possible to see that they were making headway.  And it could have been worse.  Much, much worse.  
   
***  
   
 _“Pathfinder and Compass Rose.  Message from Miss Militia.  Dragon says all done.”_  
   
 _Sham down, CD-5._  
 _Harsh Mistress down, CD-5._  
 _Woebegone down, CD-5…_  
   
Compass Rose depressed two buttons, even as Pathfinder took them to Sham.  He grabbed the cape, they went again before she was able to speak.  The gurney was there; Sham landed on it from six inches up.  
   
She focused on Harsh Mistress, sent the location to her father, as she spoke out loud.  
   
“Need a location, a landmark, a name.  Something to focus on.”  
   
Harsh Mistress was trying to struggle to her feet, her left arm nearly severed at the shoulder.  They took her to where Panacea was working, disappeared again.  
   
Woebegone was done before the answer came through.   _“It is called the_ ** _Desperate Hope._** _”_  
   
Pathfinder depressed two buttons.  “Pathfinder and Compass Rose signing off from search and rescue for the moment.”  
   
 _“Roger.  Signing off from search and rescue, Pathfinder and Compass Rose.”_  
   
Taylor focused on the name  _Desperate Hope_ , and the image swam into view of an ungainly-looking craft sitting on a concrete apron outside a large hangar.  
   
She drove the information into Danny’s mind, and they teleported.  
   
***  
   
It was late afternoon in Vancouver, and the sun was shining through the trees.  It wasn’t raining.  
   
As they approached the craft, a side hatch slid open. Pathfinder climbed in first; Compass Rose followed.  
   
 _What we need is a craft ..._  
   
The rear seat had been designed specifically to Pathfinder’s specifications.  He settled into it, and  did up his belt.  Compass Rose straddled him, and he did up more belts which held her in place.  They fitted together like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle.  
   
 _... lets her sit on my lap in safety and comfort ..._  
   
Clasped hands.  
   
She focused on Miss Militia.  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed across the concrete apron.  
   
When the gentle breeze wafted it away, there was nothing there.  
   
***  
   
Miss Militia gritted her teeth and upgraded her weapon again.  _What does it take to hurt this thing?_  

_“Miss Militia.  Dragon craft Desperate Hope incoming.”_

She looked around.  There was a massive burst of smoke, and a huge craft splashed to the roadway beside her.  A hatch slid open.  
   
“We need a pilot!” yelled Pathfinder.  
   
Hannah shrugged and holstered the pistol.   _Let’s see if Danny’s crazy idea works._

She climbed on board.  As she settled into the pilot’s seat, she keyed her wristband.  
   
“Miss Militia in craft with Pathfinder and Compass Rose. Do not engage.”  
   
 _“Roger.  Message relayed.”_

Fastening the five-point restraints, she took the controls and heaved the craft into the air.  It was ungainly, and the thrusters had a totally different sound to what she was normally used to.  
   
 _... flying by rockets, not jets, for reasons which will shortly become obvious ..._  
   
A large set of dragon-claw style grapples folded under the craft; when she gave the command, it would take hold of Leviathan.  She hoped the craft had been built sturdily enough to take the kind of punishment that the Endbringer could dish out.  
   
 _... redundant seals and an air supply ..._  
   
***  
   
In the rear seat, Pathfinder faced Compass Rose.  
   
“You talked about having sex in one of these, before,” he said with a grin.  
   
“And you said you’d have to remove some clothing,” she reminded him.  
   
“Well,” he told her.  “Now’s the time.”  
   
And one puff of purple-brown smoke later, and they were both entirely, gloriously, naked.  
   
Her crotch was already pressed against his manhood, which was half-hard from the contact.  She ground it harder.  He groaned.  
   
She wrapped her hands around him and kissed him, hard.  His penis stood up between them, hard and strong.  
   
“Let me know when you’re ready!” yelled Miss Militia from the front seat.  
   
“One moment!” called Pathfinder.  He loosened Compass Rose’s belt, and she rose up, to accept his erection between her labia.  She bore down, and he slid into her.    
   
He tightened her belts, then clasped her delightfully rounded buttocks, and commenced to make love to her.  
   
She held him tightly and ground herself up and down his length, moaning with the building sensations.  
   
“He’s about to break through the line!” shouted Miss Militia, fighting to jockey the ungainly craft through the howling storm.  
   
Danny reached down between them and pinched Taylor’s clitoris. “Now!” he yelled.  
   
Taylor started to orgasm; her vaginal canal clenched around Danny’s thrusing penis.  He held her hips tightly, driving his erect cock hard into her.  
   
“Gonna fuck your ass so hard,” he ground out.  “Gonna hold you down and make you cum until you scream...”  
   
Lowering his mouth, he sucked her nipple into his mouth, and bit down on it.  
   
She screamed, and came again, arching her back against the straps, pushing herself hard onto his throbbing erection.  
   
He felt her orgasm, and began to cum himself, jetting wad after wad into her pulsating womb ...  
   
***  
   
The prototype Dragon craft lurched down through the storm like a dying duck, its thrusters howling in protest.  It slammed into Leviathan, metallic claws latching on to the monstrosity.  
   
Leviathan whipped around, his tail smashing at the body of the craft, clawed hands already reaching ...  
   
***  
   
“Now!” screamed Miss Militia.  
   
Danny, in the throes of orgasm, reached deep into the contact between himself and Taylor, and drew from it the strength he needed for this monumental task.  
   
At no other point were they closer, could they do so much with their combined powers.  
   
Taylor had the location.  She gave it to Danny.  
   
He activated his power.  
   
***  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed across the battlefield.  
   
When it faded ... Leviathan was gone.  
   
So was the odd craft.  
   
The teeming rain began to ease off.  
   
***  
   
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and the clawed hand crashed into a viewport.  Cracks radiated, but the specially toughened material did not fracture.  
   
The grapple claws opened, and thrust Leviathan away from the craft.  
   
He fell toward the grey-brown landscape below, but at the last moment, his prehensile tail whipped around and latched on to one of the arms. Miss Militia didn’t hesitate; she slapped the JETTISON ARMS button.  Explosive bolts fired; the arms fell free.  
   
And with them, Leviathan.  
   
***  
   
Writhing, twisting, raging, the Endbringer fell.  Slowly, so slowly.  Trailing streamers of water that evaporated or froze in odd sculptures that fell in their own turn.  
   
He hit, rolled on the powdery surface, came to his feet. Looked up, toward the craft overhead, limping away on three of six lifting rockets.  
   
Water was beginning to boil off of him in the vacuum, but he followed, his footprints left behind on the surface of the Moon.  
   
***  
   
Miss Militia wrestled with the controls.  Half the rockets had been damaged or destroyed, and she was lucky they were at one-sixth gee, or the craft would have crashed by now.  As it was, they had limited fuel.  And a look at the belly cam showed that Leviathan was pacing them, even as water vapour boiled off him in sheets.  
   
 _If we land ... we’re toast._  
   
“Danny!” she shouted.  “Taylor!  Wake up!”  
   
A glance over her shoulder showed her that they were still unconscious, still entwined.  She couldn’t see Taylor’s face, but Danny had blood coming from his nostrils.  
   
 _Never a good sign._  
   
The autopilot was dodgy at best, but she set it and unstrapped. Moving unsteadily in the lighter gravity, she pulled herself over the back of her seat into the rear cockpit area.  
   
 _Pathfinder jumped us from the Earth to the Moon, with Leviathan in tow.  I would never have believed it possible.  But did it kill them?  
_  
Her questing hands found pulses, strong and steady in both of them.  
   
“Danny!” she shouted.  She slapped him, pinched a nipple.  He stirred, groaned.  
   
“Taylor!” she yelled.  Grabbing one of the younger girl’s breasts, she squeezed it as hard as she could.  Taylor moaned, moved.  
   
Their eyes fluttered open, just as the craft lurched, along with a blaring siren.  
   
“We’re out of time!” she shouted.  “We’re crashing!  You’ve got to get us out of here!”  
   
Pathfinder coughed.  “Can’t ... move ... whole ... thing.”  
   
Compass Rose moved her hips.  She kissed her father on the lips.  
   
“We’ve got to try,” she rasped.  
   
“Just ... us,” he said.  “Miss ... Militia ... too.”  
   
Miss Militia looked out the viewport.  The craft was settling toward the ground.  Leviathan was leaping.    
   
“Go!” she yelled, grabbing hold of Taylor.  
   
They went.  
   
***  
   
The storm clouds were dissipating.  Search and rescue operations were under way.  The damage had been terrible, the casualties horrible ... but far less than projected.  
   
Panacea stopped, wiped her forehead with her sleeve, and looked around for the next casualty.  
   
There were none.  
   
“That’s it?” she asked.  “It’s over?”  
   
One of the orderlies, a woman, shrugged.  
   
A TV at the end of the ward buzzed to life.  People started wandering over to watch it.  
   
It told a fantastic story, of a Hail Mary pass, performed by the cape duo Pathfinder and Compass Rose.  Of a craft specially devised and built on the fly by Dragon, piloted by the redoubtable Miss Militia.  Flying through the storm.  Engaging Leviathan in close combat.  
   
And then Pathfinder and Compass Rose exhibiting the true level of their powers.  
   
Teleporting the monster all the way to the Moon.  
   
Telescopes already trained on the creature noted that it had not moved in the last hour.  It was dead or dormant.  Either way, it wasn’t coming back any time soon.  
   
Panacea raised a cheer with the rest of the people in the ward, but the question nagging at the back of her mind was also raised on the screen.  
   
 _“Did our brave heroes survive, or did they sacrifice themselves in saving us?”_  
   
***  
   
Hannah poised herself on all fours on the edge of the bed, her naked posterior thrust out enticingly toward Danny.  
   
“Are you sure?” he asked her.  His hands caressed her rounded dark-skinned globes, rubbing in lubricant.  A finger slid into her tightest hole and she drew her breath in sharply.  Lying in front of her, Taylor caressed her firm breasts, and raised up on one elbow to kiss her.  Hannah returned the kiss, then looked over her shoulder.  
   
“Not particularly, Danny, but I’m willing to try it with you. You saved my life.  You saved many lives.  And so, your reward.  No-one else has done this with me.”  
   
“Oh, you’re gonna love it,” grinned Taylor, pulling her head down for another kiss.  
   
Hannah smiled, and lifted one hand to caress Taylor’s naked breasts.  “I will certainly try to do so,” she murmured.  
   
Behind her, Danny took hold of her hips, and slowly began to slide his long penis in between her firm buttocks.  
   
***  
   
“I’ve just got one question,” grunted Miss Militia, as Danny thrust hard into her.  “Why did I have to arrive naked?”  
   
Taylor grinned and kissed her again.  “We had to save weight, obviously.”  
   
Hannah braced herself and thrust back at Danny.  “Right,” she groaned.  “Stupid question.”  
   
And then she gave herself entirely over to the pleasure.

 


	24. Celebratory Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny and Taylor indulge in a glad-to-be-alive threesome with Hannah.

The  _Desperate Hope_  tumbled lazily toward the lunar surface.  Leviathan gathered himself, leaped, heading arrow-straight toward the broken ship.  Taylor lifted herself off of Danny's rigidly erect penis, then settled her ass on top of his straining erection.  They kissed, passionately, as her buttocks parted, and she slid down upon him, engulfing him, impaling her anal passage upon the long shaft.  
   
Her delicate labia, still swollen with their passion, still coated with the secretions of her arousal, came to rest against his scratchy pubic hair.  She clenched herself around him, making him groan.  
   
Leviathan slammed into the dying craft like a thunderbolt, claws raking, popping panels. A viewport shattered; air spilled. Alarms shrieked, sounding high and tinny in the rapidly-reducing pressure.  Danny grasped Miss Militia's hand, kissed Taylor ... and teleported.  
   
Leviathan tore the  _Desperate Hope_  apart in a rage of destruction, but all they left behind was a rapidly-dissipating cloud of purple-brown smoke, and Miss Militia's costume.  
   
And then the craft exploded.  It didn’t harm Leviathan much, but it was nice as a final fuck-you.  
   
***  
   
They fell out of a cloud of purple-brown smoke, hit a yielding surface, and bounced.  
   
Miss Militia, her senses still dazed by the sudden shift from low air pressure to high, from noise and fury to relative silence, looked around with vague puzzlement.  
   
"Where are we?" she asked.  "I know this place."  
   
Taylor groaned; Miss Militia looked around.  The teenage girl was on her back with her legs around Danny’s waist. He was working his long erection in and out of her tightly-gripping rear passage.  Taylor groaned again; it was a sound of arousal, of lust, of sheer carnal desire.  
   
Danny looked up at Miss Militia.  
   
“We’re home, Hannah,” he said with a grin.  “Remember?”  
   
She looked around again, and this time she did remember.  It was all so familiar now; the bed they were all lying on, the room with the closets, the passageway outside.  The familiarity was extended by Danny’s nakedness, and her own.  
   
“Wait,” she said.  “Why am I naked?”  
   
Taylor’s head twisted around to stare at her.  “You’re naked?” she asked.  “Holy crap, you’re naked.  Dad, why are you fucking  _me?_   You should be giving Hannah some.  You’ve already come in me a bunch today.”  
   
Danny smiled down at Taylor, and kissed her.  She wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him back, hard.  After they disengaged, he slowly, erotically, pulled his long erection from Taylor’s overstretched rectum.  Hannah watched, fascinated, as he slowly unsheathed himself from within his daughter’s anal passage.  
   
Erection still wet and shiny from the recent coupling, he got up on his knees and reached out to take her hand.  “Are you still up for that threesome?” he asked her.  
   
She blinked, uncertain.  “I should call in, let them know we’re alive –“ she ventured.  
   
“Hey,” he said with a carefree grin.  “Let ‘em mourn their fallen heroes for another couple hours.  Or days.  They aren’t gonna need us right this very second, right?  We’re off the clock.”  His eyes travelled up and down her taut, firm body.  “And I’ve been meaning to get back to you about a return engagement.”  
   
She felt herself growing warm with his appreciation, and with the proximity of his naked body.  Not to mention the still-rampant penis with which he was facing her.  
   
“Taylor,” she said slowly.  “Are you all right with your father and I –“  
   
Taylor grinned.  “Hannah,” she said.  “If Dad wants to have sex with you, I say go for it.  I know he’ll always come back to me.  But there was mention of a threesome, and that interests me.”  
   
Hannah blinked again.  “I – you know I’m straight.  I just –“  
   
“ – offered it as an inducement for getting Dad into bed, I know,” Taylor agreed. “I’ve never done anything with a woman before either.  But I’m willing to learn.  And I’ve heard that threesomes can be lots of fun.  Also, Amy and Vicky seem to enjoy kissing each other a lot, so I’m getting the impression that girl-girl loving has something going for it.  So hey, let’s give it a try.”  
   
She rolled over and sat up, legs crossed.  Her labia were parted, and a slight ooze of white crept out of her somewhat reddened vaginal opening.  Her breasts weren’t full enough to bob, but they were definitely more mature than when Hannah first met her.  
   
“So what do you say?” asked Taylor softly.  “Wanna try for a kiss?  See how it rolls?”  
   
Hannah tilted her head to one side.  She was almost exactly twice Taylor’s age, but she suspected that the girl before her had had more sexual experience, in the short time she had been illicitly copulating with her father, than Hannah had in her entire life.    
   
It was basically the fault of her powers; she had triggered so young that she had powers before she had entered puberty.  She had dated Chevalier a few times during her early days in the Wards, and had a few other love interests since then, but nothing serious.  She had made a point of losing her virginity to one of her nicer boyfriends, just to see what it was about, but had found it to be no great shakes.  Since then, she had engaged in sex every now and again, but it had really not been a priority for her.  Until, that is, she had met Danny.  
   
The man had engaged her, on every level.  He was a hero, he was physically attractive, and he knew how to please a woman. The sex she had enjoyed with him, after the event with Lung, had driven her out of her mind with pleasure.  She really, truly, wanted to do that with him again.  And her offer to share with Taylor was genuine; it just had not occurred to her that she may have to share her body with Taylor as well.  
   
“Well,” she said lightly.  “I may as well.”  She smiled warmly at the younger girl.  “I’ve had offers from women before, but I’ve never taken them up.  So you should feel honoured.”  
   
“Honoured, huh?” grinned Taylor.  She rose up on to her knees, ignoring the trickle of white that was now inching down between her thighs, and shuffled over to Miss Militia.  “Let’s see how honoured I feel after the fact.”  
   
Hannah was still mostly reclined, and Taylor pushed her back gently on to the bed.  Her hair brushed Hannah’s breasts as she crawled on top of the older woman. Their skin, light-coloured against dark coffee, moved smoothly, sensuously, against each other.  
   
Taylor lowered her face to Hannah’s.  Their breasts pressed together, deforming, squashing, erotically.  Danny watched, fascinated.  His erection was not going down.  
   
Hannah had always found her men to be demanding, taking charge.  Kissing forcefully, as if they could impress their manhood, their masculinity upon her with their kisses. Danny had been a little different. He had asked as well as given, allowing her to enjoy the kiss at her own rate.  It was part of why she was so enamoured with his bedroom technique.  
   
Taylor’s kiss was different again.  Despite the fact that she was on top, was the dominant partner in the kiss, she was delicate, gentle, sweet.   Her lips lingered on Hannah’s, tasting, teasing, enjoying the sensation.  
   
And so was Hannah, she realised.  She felt herself responding, wrapping her arms around Taylor’s neck, kissing her back, feeling her tongue protruding through, meeting Taylor’s tongue, their lips meeting, sealing.  
   
Taylor’s body, moving against hers, their breasts pressing, Taylor’s thigh between hers, rubbing.  She rubbed her own thigh between Taylor’s legs; Taylor moaned into the kiss, and pressed down hard upon her.  
   
Their arms fully about one another, the kiss was complete.  They embraced, and moved their bodies against one another, while their lips pressed and their tongues duelled. They rolled across the bed, until Hannah was on top.  She broke the kiss and lifted herself up a little, breathing heavily, eyes hot and heavy-lidded.  Then she kissed Taylor again, this time as hard and forcefully as any man had kissed her.  
   
Taylor responded avidly, accepting the kiss, the domination, letting Hannah take the lead, melting into her embrace.  Letting Hannah be in charge.  Enjoying being the one being controlled.  
   
Hannah was shaken by the intensity of the sensations she was feeling.  She had always thought she was straight.  Women’s bodies had never interested her, except in the aesthetic. But this kiss, this embrace, the body moving against hers … it was all driving her to a fever pitch of arousal.  
   
Perhaps, some small analytical part of her mind mused, it was due partly to the escape they had made from certain death.  That tended to reduce inhibitions.  But she didn’t care, didn’t really want to know. All she knew was that she was kissing Taylor Hebert, and was being kissed back by her, and it was one of the most erotic sensations that she had ever undergone in her life.  
   
One of the most.  Not the most. This was brought home to her when a third hand began to stroke her back and buttocks, and lips began nibbling at her neck.  She stiffened, but did not stop kissing Taylor, as Danny caressed her, touching her in places that sent shafts of blazing fire right to the centre of her being.  
   
He kept it up, teasing her, titillating her, reaching between her spread thighs – just as Taylor moved her leg away – to gently rub at her labia, to excite her upstanding clitoris.  She felt him lifting her hips, so that she was up on her knees, and suddenly, he was between her legs, licking at her, applying his talented tongue to her labia.  
   
She kissed Taylor harder than ever then, feeling the younger girl’s nails digging into her back, feeling Danny’s attentions bringing her body to a fine boil of sexual need.  When she felt his penis sliding between her labia, into her wet and willing womanhood, she could have cried with the release.  His hands gripped her hips as he slowly penetrated her, stretching her vaginal canal, oh so erotically.  
   
Slowly, gently, he entered her, thrusting into her, deeper and deeper with each push.  She felt him take her, conquer her, fill her with his erect manhood, until his pubic hair pressed against her buttocks.  And then he began to slide in and out of her.  
   
Taylor seemed to be getting just as much out of this as Hannah was, and she suddenly realised why.  Through the body contact that she had with her father, Taylor was feeling the pleasure that Danny wa feeling, with his penis inside Hannah. Her kisses were certainly not becoming less avid; if anything, they were more so by the moment.  And as Danny pumped his rampant erection deep into Hannah’s slippery wetness, both Hannah and Taylor became more excited, more aroused.  
   
Hannah felt Taylor’s fingers on her clitoris, and she bit Taylor’s lip as she came.  She felt Danny redouble his tempo as his daughter became substantially more aroused –  _he gets the feedback from her, of course_  – and she felt fireworks going off in her mind as she launched into her second orgasm of the day.  
   
The third orgasm came as Danny pulled her hard on to him – an erotic sensation that nearly made her eyes bulge – and came hard inside her, thrusting almost brutally into her, shooting wad after wad of cum deep inside her quivering, pulsating vagina.  
   
Taylor came at the same time, with two of Miss Militia’s fingers jammed deep into her throughly wet pussy, and Hannah’s teeth nipping the skin of her neck.  Danny seemed to take forever to finish climaxing, thrusting into her long after he had finished ejaculating.  Hannah’s eyes rolled back into her head as she felt the orgasm blasting through her, finally collapsing on top of Taylor as Danny’s thrusting ceased.  
   
Danny pulled out of her, allowing her to roll off Taylor on to her back, and lie there, panting.  Taylor was no less affected, and Danny was also sheened with sweat.  
   
“Allah preserve us,” she said softly, in her own language.  She very rarely used it these days, and even more rarely swore in it, but this seemed to be an appropriate time. She turned her head to where Danny was reclining beside her.  “I did not think that a threesome could be so rewarding.  Thank you.”  
   
He rolled up slightly, so that he could kiss her, gently and tenderly.  “No,” he said.  “Thank you, for suggesting this. I didn’t think it could work. You just proved me wrong.”  
   
Taylor snuggled up beside her, an arm lying over her waist.  Not particularly erotic, but very sensual, very enjoyable.  “That was awesome,” she murmured in Hannah’s ear.  “Normally, I get what Dad’s doing to me, and what I’m doing to Dad, as a sort of stereo effect.  But this time, I got what you were doing to Dad, and what you were doing to me, and it was totally different, and it drove me all kinds of insane.  In a really, really good way.”  
   
Hannah smiled, and kissed Danny back, then turned her head to kiss Taylor as well.  “Thank you, both of you,” she said.  “For giving me this chance.  For showing me that I can love and be loved by women.”  She kissed Taylor again, and felt the girl’s lips respond, warmly, sensuously.  “But I suspect that it is just you that I enjoy this with.”  
   
“Hey,” said Taylor, lifting herself so that her head rested on Hannah’s breasts.  “I really, really enjoyed that too.  Even before Dad started doing his thing with you.”  
   
Hannah caressed her cheek, brushing the hair back from her face.  “I enjoyed it also, Taylor darling.  I would really enjoy doing it another time with the both of you.”  The warm feeling in her body, the afterglow, was so beautiful. She could have cried with the intensity of the love she felt for both of them.  
   
“Another time?” asked Danny with a grin.  “What’s wrong with today?  Now?”  His hand slid suggestively across her stomach.  
   
“Now?” asked Hannah, with a jolt of arousal. “I … I assumed you would want to go back to making love with Taylor.”  
   
He teased her face around to him, and kissed her again. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Hannah,” he said softly.  “You’re our guest.  I wouldn’t neglect you.”  
   
“And I really want to try out this threesome thing some more,” put in Taylor.  She turned her head slightly, and caught Hannah’s fingers in her mouth, and suckled on them gently.  
   
“Oh,” said Hannah.  “Oh.”  She looked at Danny. “What did you have in mind?”  
   
***  
   
Hannah looked askance at the shower cubicle. “Are you sure we’ll all fit?” she asked dubiously.  
   
“Well, once Dad gets his penis into one or the other of us two, sure,” said Taylor with a giggle.  “I mean, when it’s out and about, it’s a menace to society, but up inside me or you, we’ve got it under control.”  
   
Hannah had to smother a laugh.  “That’s an … interesting view,” she said.  She looked down with respect at Danny’s manhood, already visibly coming to full hardness once more.  “So … who gets his penis this time?  It is sort of your turn …”  
   
“Only if you want to put something into me from behind,” Taylor decided.  “Either that, or you wrap your legs around his waist, and I play with your ass.”  
   
“I don’t see how you can fit that into your butt,” Hannah commented.  “I’ve had guys try to put it in there, but I’ve never let them.  It sounds painful.”  
   
“If you’re not ready, or not lubricated enough, or both, sure,” agreed Taylor.  “The first time we tried, it was just too painful.  I was tense, and Dad wasn’t sure, so we gave it up and fucked the normal way.  But after Dad saved me from the locker, I slathered on the lube, and opened up for him, and he fitted. Just, but he fitted.”  
   
“You didn’t use lube this last time,” Hannah noted. “Didn’t that hurt?”  
   
Taylor grinned and shook her head.  “When Panacea did her number on me, I asked her to make my butt more elastic and more sensitive than it had been before.  So Dad can put it into my ass as hard and as often as he likes, and it only gets a little sore.”  
   
Hannah burst out laughing.  “So  _that’s_  what that was all about.”  
   
Taylor grinned and nodded, and caressed her ass. “So, you want to play with my ass while he fucks me, or you want me to play with your ass while he fucks you?”  
   
“Hey,” said Danny.  “Don’t I get a say in who I get to have sex with?”  
   
Taylor and Hannah looked at him.  “No,” they said in unison, then giggled.  
   
Hannah caressed Taylor’s naked body; Taylor’s hand found Hannah’s firm breast, and squeezed it gently.  
   
“What I would like to see …” said Hannah slowly, “is your dad putting it in your ass, while you eat my pussy.”  
   
“Mmmm,” murmured Taylor rubbing her body sensually against Hannah’s.  “I think I’d like that too.”  She glanced at her father.  “Dad?”  
   
“Hey,” said Danny.  “Any day I get to put my cock in your ass is a good day.”  
   
“And afterward,” said Taylor, “we can see if you like it in the ass yourself.”  
   
Hannah blinked.  “Wait, what?”  
   
Taylor smiled and kissed her, very thoroughly indeed. Hanna responded, her arms going around Taylor, caressing her body.  
   
“I said,” murmured Taylor, after they broke off the kiss, “we could see if you like Dad’s penis in your ass as much as I do.”  
   
“Mmm,” replied Hannah.  “We could definitely try that out.”  
   
***  
   
The threesome in the shower cubicle was not an easy one to arrange.  In the end, Hannah lay down on the floor of the tub, and Taylor assumed a sixy-nine position above her.  This suited them both admirably; neither one was an expert at cunnilingus, but they were both quite happy to learn.  
   
And then, as Hannah felt Taylor’s tongue begin to explore her already-wet sex, and began to do her own erotic explorations, she watched Danny’s long penis, glistening with droplets from the shower, begin to slide between Taylor’s shapely buttocks.  Taylor’s tight anal pucker opened at the prodding from Danny’s cock, and then stretched to accommodate him.    
   
Her very buttocks were spread apart; Hannah watched with fascination as inch after inch of his rampant erection penetrated Taylor’s rear end, to her obvious enjoyment and delight.  It was, she was surprised to realise, a very erotic sight.  
   
And then he began to pump in and out of her, even as Hannah paid close and personal attention to her slippery-wet vagina, lapping up her juices and driving her wild with soft tongue-touches everywhere she thought Taylor needed it.  
   
Taylor could not believe how good this felt. It was wild enough, having Danny driving his cock deep into her rectal passage with every stroke, striking sparks of pleasure all the way up her backbone.  But to have Hannah’s talented tongue and lips doing a number on her vagina, sucking on her clitoris, eating her, devouring her, driving her wild with desire, at the same time … it was  _incredible._  
   
She felt her father tighten his hold on her hips, and then begin to really drive the point home.  Her ass clenched around him as he forced himself between her buttocks, harder and harder, deeper and deeper, ramming himself up inside her secret depths, until her eyes nearly crossed with the sensations.  And still Hannah did those wonderful, perverted, amazing things to her vagina, her labia, her clitoris.  
   
Hannah felt Taylor arching her back in orgasm, felt her muffled cry even as her mouth was pressed between Hannah’s widely-spread thighs.  Hannah was already throughly aroused from watching Danny sodomise his daughter, and when Taylor began to ravage her clitoris with lips and tongue and teeth, it was the last straw.  She nearly lifted off the floor of the tub with the force of her orgasm.  
   
Taylor tasted the sudden rush of Hannah’s secretions, felt and heard her climax, just before Danny rammed even harder into her abused ass than before, and unleashed a series of searing spurts of hot white semen deep into her bowels.  She came again, of course, which increased his own orgasmic pleasure, which meant that he did not cease thrusting for quite some time.  
   
Afterward, it took quite some time for either Hannah or Taylor to get up from the floor of the tub.  In the end, Danny had to help them up, where they clung to him and to each other, still shuddering with the power of the mutual orgasm they had just shared.  
   
***  
   
Still naked, but dried off, they trooped downstairs. There was food cooking on the stove, on the point of burning; Taylor turned the heat down to a simmer.  She got food out of the fridge, cold meat and salad, and they had a scratch meal.  
   
Miss Militia looked at Danny and then at Taylor, even as she used a large hunting knife to cut her meat.  “I …” she began.  “With you two, I … things are different.  You aren’t just friends.  Not just colleagues, either.  You’re more.  Lovers.  Closer.  Harder to think about objectively.”  
   
Taylor reached over and took her hand.  Hannah stared at her.  Taylor smiled.  “Dad likes you.  A lot,” she said.  “And so, I like you, a lot.  It’s how we roll.”  She clasped Hannah’s hand between hers, warmly.  “I want to do this with you, more,” she said.  “With or without Dad, to be honest.  You’re the first woman I’ve ever kissed, the first woman I’ve ever made love with, and I’m really enjoying it.”  
   
She grinned over at her father.  “And before you say anything, you know darn well that I’ll always come back to you.  What you do for me is beyond belief.  Amazing. Astounding.  But Hannah does something for me, too.  In a different way.  Not as intense, but still something I want to do more of.”  
   
Danny grinned back.  “Wasn’t gonna say a word, kiddo.  I’m enjoying this too much.”  
   
Taylor leaned over and kissed Miss Militia; the dark-skinned woman kissed her back, with every sign of enjoyment.  Neither of them heard the muted squeal as the truck pulled up at the curb.  
   
Danny only registered the sound of the key in the lock at the very last moment.  He stood, reached out, grabbed Taylor’s arm.  As the front door opened, purple-brown smoke billowed in the kitchen.  
   
They landed on the bed, Taylor and Hannah still engaged in their kiss.  
   
***  
   
Brian opened the front door, then stepped aside for Aisha.  He closed the door as the truck started off again, and guided his little sister through to the living room. They sat on the sofa, Aisha openly crying.  
   
“They could have gotten out of there,” he tried to console her.  “They didn’t see any bodies in the telescopes.”  
   
“The fucking thing exploded!” she sobbed. “They’re dead!  The only people who ever did any shit nice for us, and they’re fucking dead!”  
   
“Look,” he said, “I’ll fix you something to eat. Maybe you’ll feel better after that.”  
   
“Whatever,” she said quietly, curling up on the sofa in a tight ball of misery.  “Knock yourself out.”  
   
He sighed, patted her on the shoulder, and got up to go into the kitchen.  At the kitchen door, he paused, frowning.  
   
“Aish,” he called back over his shoulder, “we weren’t eating a meal when the sirens went off, were we?”  
   
“No,” came the muffled reply.  “You were cooking some shit, though.”  
   
He looked at the stove.  The heat had been turned down.  “Well, fuck.”  
   
He looked back at the table, with three half-eaten meals on it.  “Well, double fuck.”  
   
The back door was still locked.  The front door had been locked when they came in.  And then he tilted his head.  Danny’s bedroom was directly under the kitchen. And directly overhead, he could faintly hear the sound of bedsprings creaking, and tiny cries of pleasure.  
   
A broad grin crossed his face.  He exited the kitchen, strolled over to where Aisha was still curled up on the sofa.  
   
“Hey,” he said softly.  “Guess what?”  
   
“What?” she snapped, still sniffling.  
   
“Guess who’s upstairs, getting it on, right now?”  
   
Her head snapped around and she stared at him. “You’re shitting me,” she said.  
   
He shook his head with a grin.  “Fuck no.  I heard it myself.  They’re fucking going for it.”  
   
She began to laugh, softly at first, and then more loudly, until she was rolling back and forth on the sofa, cackling madly.  Her mirth was at obvious odds with the tear-streaks on her face, but she didn’t care.  
   
“Holy fuck,” she gasped at last.  “They dump Leviathan on the fucking moon, then come back here to get a little wild monkey sex, just because they can.  Fuck me, that’s more badass than a bunch of ninja pirates with chainsaw nunchucks.”  
   
Brian had to shake his head at her bizarre simile.   
   
“Come on,” he said.  “Let’s see what’s on TV.  Let them celebrate being alive.”  
   
He reached for the remote.  She got there first.  
   
And upstairs, the wild monkey sex went on.  
   
***  
   
Taylor found herself on her back, Miss Militia poised between her thighs.  From the older woman’s hips jutted … it was a strap-on dildo that had strange attachments, and blinking orange and green lights on it.  Taylor had never seen one like it before.  
   
“What – is that your weapon thing?” she asked.  
   
Hannah kissed her, slowly and lingeringly. “Yes,” she murmured.  “Do you trust me?”  
   
Taylor kissed her hard in return.  Miss Militia began to insert the dildo.  
   
As it slid into her, Taylor arched her pelvis up to meet Hannah’s thrusts.  She felt it enter her, penetrate her, drive to her slippery, secret depths.  “Oh god,” she groaned.  “Oh god, that’s so good.”  
   
Danny watched Hannah drive the dildo into Taylor’s wet and willing vagina, begin to fuck her with long, hard, precision-driven strokes.  Taylor’s breasts jiggled with the thrusts; her head was thrown back, her mouth open, her eyes wide. Her nails dug into Hannah’s back, as she made incoherent noises of pleasure.  
   
Hannah smiled down at her, nibbled at her neck, suckled at her breasts, all without breaking rhythm.  The sexual implement that she had fashioned from her weapon energy technically had combat applications, but she wasn’t using those. She was just using it to screw Taylor Hebert into a panting mess on the bed.  Watching Taylor respond to the stimulation, her steady thrusts, was more arousing than she would have thought possible.  She increased the tempo, thrust harder.  
   
Taylor nearly lifted herself and Hannah right off the bed with a monumental orgasm.  Hannah kept right on screwing her into the mattress.  
   
Danny found himself hugely aroused by the sight of one woman he loved dearly being thoroughly fucked by another woman he was learning to love.  He got up alongside them, caressed them, kissed Hannah.  She responded avidly, her hips still pumping, the dildo driving between Taylor’s swollen labia, to Taylor’s evident and total pleasure.  
   
Danny got up behind Miss Militia, caressing her ass and thighs, rubbing her labia.  She gasped as he inserted a finger into her, letting her own motion side it in and out of her.  She was hot, wet, slippery, tight.  She groaned, thrust backward just as hard as she was thrusting forward.  He guided his erect penis so that it was sliding up and down between her buttocks as they flexed and relaxed with each thrust; the sensation was amazing.  
   
She felt the sliding sensation between her buttocks, and for a moment thought that he had put it into her ass.  But there was no pressure, no stretching, no penetration. Just …  _oh my god._   Then she felt him moving it around, lining up with her labia, getting ready to penetrate her, slide into her, take her from behind even as she was taking his daughter so deeply, so powerfully.  
   
She wanted him to cum inside her pussy again.  And again.  She wanted to feel his cock driving between her labia, into her yielding vaginal passage, making love to her, loving her, taking her for his own.  
   
But something else occurred to her, and she groaned, “No, don’t.  Not there. Not yet.”  
   
He paused, puzzled, and she took the time to step it into high gear.  Taylor didn’t stand a chance.  
   
Taylor felt another orgasm blasting through her. The only person who had managed to make her feel better than this was Danny; Chris, unfortunately, despite his enthusiasm and natural talent, fell rather behind.  She gasped, mouth open wide, as the driving shaft between her thighs slammed her into new levels of climactic pleasure.    
   
When Hannah finally finished giving her vagina the punishment it so richly deserved, and she so avidly desired, she was flat out on the bed, not sure which way was up, nor caring very much.  
   
Hannah kissed Taylor, then carefully withdrew the dildo from between her throughly arousal-slicked thighs.  The teen lay there, gasping for breath, eyes unfocused, twitching slightly.  From time to time, she let out a soft moan or whimper.  She didn’t seem to be able to close her thighs; her labia, heavily distended, were almost red raw from Miss Militia’s attentions.  
   
“Damn,” said Danny.  “You did a number on her.”  
   
She kissed him.  “It was a thank-you for letting me be with you,” she said softly.  “Now, I believe you said something about lube …?”  
   
Danny raised an eyebrow.  “You’re sure?”  
   
Hannah nodded firmly.  “I’m sure.”  
   
***  
   
Hannah poised herself on all fours on the edge of the bed, her naked posterior thrust out enticingly toward Danny.  
   
“Are you sure?” he asked her one more time.  His hands caressed her rounded dark-skinned globes, rubbing in lubricant.  A finger slid into her tightest hole and she drew her breath in sharply.  Lying in front of her, Taylor caressed her firm breasts, and raised up on one elbow to kiss her.  Hannah returned the kiss, then looked over her shoulder.  
   
“Not particularly, Danny, but I’m willing to try it with you. You saved my life.  You saved many lives.  And so, your reward.  No-one else has done this with me.”  
   
“Oh, you’re gonna love it,” grinned Taylor, pulling her head down for another kiss.  
   
Hannah smiled, and lifted one hand to caress Taylor’s naked breasts.  “I will certainly try to do so,” she murmured.  
   
Behind her, Danny took hold of her hips, and slowly began to slide his long penis in between her firm buttocks.  
   
She grunted as she felt the tip of his erection teasing open the tight anal pucker.  She felt herself stretching, as the lubricated penis eased its way inside of her virgin ass.  Her sphincter clenched, flexed, as she instinctively tried to repel the invader.   
   
He stopped.  “You okay?” he asked, solicitously.  Taylor kissed her again.  
   
She nodded, and forced herself to relax. “Yes,” she said.  “Keep going.  Put it in me.  I want to feel you inside me.”  She kissed Taylor in return.  Felt the girl reaching under her, caressing her labia, rubbing her clitoris.  The wave of pleasure relaxed her, and she felt Danny slide another few inches inside of her.  
   
“Oh my god,” she gasped, eyes going wide.  “Oh my god.”  
   
The sensation was incredible. Uncomfortable, unfamiliar, but … at the same time … intense.  And oh so pleasurable.  
   
She felt herself pushing back at Danny’s gentle thrusts, as Taylor slid fingers in and out of her slippery vaginal passage. With each thrust, he opened her up more, spread her anal opening wider, pushed her taut buttocks farther apart. She thought she could take no more, and then he thrust more into her anyway.    
   
Finally, she felt his scrotum come to rest against her swollen labia.  She realised that he was all the way inside her.  It was an amazing sensation.  And so arousing to realise that his long penis was all the way up inside her tight, previously virgin, asshole.  
   
Slowly, he began to slide in and out of her, and she gasped with the sensation, then kissed Taylor hard.  Taylor kissed her back, caressing her body and breasts. Hannah arched her back as Danny plunged inside her once more.  
   
“I want to eat you,” she gasped, as she felt the man behind her speed up his pace.  Her ass was on fire, but it was a  _good_  kind of fire, the type that lit up her entire being.  
   
Taylor eagerly spread herself out for Hannah, and felt the older woman begin to eat her pussy with commendable enthusiasm. They had both learned a great deal about pleasuring women in the last couple of hours, and Taylor’s body bucked and heaved on the bed as the orgasmic sensations blasted through her.  
   
Danny was in seventh heaven.  Not one, but two women were in his bed, each of whom he was seriously attracted to, and each wanting his sexual favours.  More to the point, he was in the process of anally deflowering Miss Militia, whose ass was just as tight and hot as Taylor’s had been, the first time they had managed anal sex.  The grasp her rectal passage had on his penis was astounding; it was all he could do to thrust into her at all.  He had no idea how long he could hold on before he came, but it wouldn’t be long.  Grasping her hips, he upped the tempo, drawing gasps of pleasure from her as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper between her taut buttocks.  
   
 “I’ve just got one question,” grunted Miss Militia, as Danny thrust hard into her. “Why did I have to arrive naked?”  
   
Taylor grinned and kissed her again.  “We had to save weight, obviously.”  
   
Hannah braced herself and thrust back at Danny. “Right,” she groaned.  “Stupid question.”  
   
And then she gave herself entirely over to the pleasure.  
   
Hannah was just about twice Taylor’s age, and she didn’t need Panacea’s assistance to be able to take a good hard session of anal sex. Once she got used to it, she urged him on with moans and cries of passion, pushing back at him, helping him force himself hard between her buttocks, until she had come and come and come again.  When he finally unleashed his own orgasm, she felt the blast of semen coating the inside of her bowels, filling her ass up with his effusions.  
   
Afterward, they lay side by side on the bed, each one sweaty all over again.  Hands gently caressed, lips brushed against lips.  
   
“Wow,” groaned Danny, his member flaccid for the moment.  “That was … insane.”  
   
Taylor rested her head on his shoulder.  “Oh god yes,” she agreed.  “I can’t believe we just did all that.”  
   
Hannah, cuddled up on Danny’s other side, head pillowed on his arm, just murmured wordlessly in agreement.  
   
“You realise we are going to have to let them know we’re alive eventually?” she said after a while.  
   
The only answer she got was a soft snore from Danny, and quiet breathing from Taylor.  
   
She smiled, snuggled a little more closely into Danny, and closed her eyes.  She wouldn’t sleep, but she could certainly go over her memories of what they had just done together.  And when Danny and Taylor woke up, they could do it all again, with variations.  
   
After all, she was off the clock.  And while she would have to check in eventually, it didn’t have to right this very second.  
   
It was a very nice feeling.


	25. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pathfinder, Compass Rose and Miss Militia continue to enjoy each others' company in bed

Taylor kissed Hannah, their lips melding together, tongues duelling sensuously. Hannah caressed Taylor’s breasts, her hands squeezing and pinching the sensitive flesh in ways that made Taylor all the more aroused. For her part, Taylor supported her weight on her hands as she ground herself down on to the high-tech dildo that Hannah had strapped to her hips.

It filled Taylor utterly, hitting every button she had and then some. Every time she ground down, every time Hannah bucked her hips upward, Taylor’s brain exploded with pleasure. It was almost as good as sex with Danny.

Hannah moaned as Taylor slid her distended labia up and down along the thick dildo, impaling herself on it again and again. It came with extensions that pushed into Hannah’s vagina and anus, extensions that vibrated or introduced other sensations, ones that made her arch her back in ecstasy. And what Taylor was doing … she could do this all day, the orgasms making her mind white out with pleasure.

The kiss went on and on, the two women tasting one another’s lips and tongue, along with hints of one another’s sexual juices, as each had spent some time extensively pleasuring the other via cunnilingus. Hannah’s nails bit into Taylor’s back as the younger girl moved her hips faster. Taylor’s eyes rolled back in her head as she came, but her hips never stopped moving.

They rolled over, Hannah taking over the thrusting without missing a beat. Taylor’s legs spread wide as she stared up at Hannah, eyes glazed with passion. Quickly, efficiently, Hannah gathered up Taylor’s legs, one over each of her shoulders, and began to really give her the goods.

Taylor cried out again and again as Hannah’s dildo slid into her, as deep as it would go, her raised and vulnerable pussy totally at Hannah’s mercy. The thrusts were almost brutal, almost painful, but they struck at her centre in a way that sent bolts of sheer blinding orgasmic pleasure throughout her body.

Hannah felt the feedback from her thrusting, and redoubled her tempo; she could not believe how good this felt. Her brain was melting, her vagina and anus on fire from the sensations. She suckled on Taylor’s breasts, her teeth scoring the nipples and driving the younger girl over the edge once more into a shuddering orgasm.

Their lips were joined one last time when they finally finished, concluding with a mind-shatteringly mutual orgasm that nearly threw them both off the bed. They collapsed, Hannah atop Taylor, too exhausted to even move.

Hannah let Taylor’s legs down, but she did not have the energy to pull the dildo from within her, so she simply let it dissolve and reform as a baton which she left to one side. With that out of the way, she was able to slide off of Taylor, sweat-slick skin against sweat-slick skin, and lie there, panting.

***

Danny found them like that, moments later. He teleported into the room wearing his bathrobe, and was immediately surrounded by a particularly delectable aroma. In each hand, he bore a plate.

“Wow,” he commented. “Looks like you two couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

Taylor mustered a weak grin. “Says the man who fucked me to exhaustion the night before I went back to school.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Danny observed. “Just that you don’t even need me around to go screwing like rabid weasels.” He sat down on the bed and waved a plate near her nose. “Scrambled eggs?”

"Ooh, yes, please," replied Taylor, pushing herself to a sitting position. She took a plate, then shared a lingering kiss with Danny. Hannah rolled over and sat up a moment later, her naked breasts bobbing gently.

"Thank you, Daniel," she smiled, accepting the second plate from him. The moment his hands were free, purple-brown smoke billowed around them, and he held a third plate.

They sat and ate the heaping helpings of scrambled eggs that he had prepared, then he sent the plates and cutlery to the sink. Next, he pulled chilled fruit juice from the fridge and glasses from the cupboard.

When the last glass had been emptied and sent back to the kitchen, Taylor snuggled up to Danny on one side, and Hannah did the same on the other.

"Thank you for breakfast, Daniel," the older woman murmured.

"Yeah, Dad, thanks," chimed in Taylor. She tugged at the belt holding the bathrobe closed; a moment later, the bathrobe itself vanished altogether in a puff of smoke.

Danny took a moment to kiss Hannah, then he cupped Taylor’s breast and squeezed it gently. “You ladies have been getting all hot and sweaty,” he told them with a grin. “Maybe you need a shower.”

“Not before we get you all hot and sweaty too, Dad,” Taylor stated, pushing him over on to his back. She took hold of his penis, already half-hard, and fondled it to full erection. “And I want some of your cum.”

Danny caressed the young woman’s full, rounded curves. “So, do you want it in your pussy or your ass?” he asked suggestively.

“Well, Hannah just did my pussy so good I’m still twitching down there,” Taylor confessed, “so I’m thinking my ass.”

“No,” Hannah said unexpectedly. “Let me do your ass. Daniel deserves a good, old-fashioned blowjob.”

“Ooh,” murmured Taylor. “You haven’t done my ass yet, have you?”

Hannah licked her lips as she ran her hands over Taylor’s rounded, firm posterior. “We can always pretend it’s your first time.”

Taylor leaned around to kiss her; the older woman’s lips were firm and warm on hers, and their tongues touched momentarily. “It will be, with that monstrosity you call a dildo.”

“Monstrosity?” exclaimed Hannah in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that’s a finely crafted weapon of war.”

“Weapon of pussy destruction is what it is,” Taylor declared. “You gave my clitoris a concussion, is what you did.”

“Well, let’s see if I can’t give your ass one too,” Hannah decided, and gave Taylor a push, to bend her over in the right attitude. “Go on, get to work.”

Taylor giggled. “Sexual slavery, that’s what this is.” She kissed Danny softly, lovingly, then trailed more kisses down his chest and stomach.

“And what if it is?” asked Danny, feeling his cock harden by the second under the skilful manipulation of her hands. He reached under her, cupped her breast, squeezed it.

She looked up at him and grinned. “Bring it on.” And then she lowered her mouth over the head of his penis, and said no more.

Danny gasped as her lips enfolded his glans, and her tongue began its devilish, naughty, insanely wonderful job of bringing him to as high a state of arousal as Taylor could manage.

Taylor, of course, could feel his reactions, feel the pleasure that he felt, and knew what felt best. So of course she did that, more and more. Danny lay back with a groan, unable to believe the sheer pleasure that Taylor could elicit with her lips wrapped around his rampant erection.

And then Taylor felt something else. She was on all fours on the bed, and Hannah was caressing and fondling her buttocks and labia. She moaned softly when she felt a delicate tongue caressing, licking, teasing, exploring her secret crevices. Danny felt her pleasure in turn, and felt his own arousal mount exponentially.

Taylor slid her mouth down his shaft; after much practice – willing and eager practice – she had learned how to deep-throat him, and he groaned as he felt the back of her throat enfold the head of his penis, and pass it down her gullet. Slowly, teasingly, she pulled her mouth back, then pushed it forward again, affording him – and, of course her – the most exquisite of sensations.

Hannah, behind her, was squeezing her buttocks, pulling them apart to expose her rosebud pucker. An exploratory finger slid into her tightest hole; she clenched on it, then relaxed, allowing Hannah to invade her farther, deeper, pushing the finger all the way into her. She pulled it almost all the way out, then slid it back into Taylor’s ass again, slowly and gently finger-fucking her.

As Hannah lovingly violated her ass – to her great enjoyment – Taylor continued to suck her father’s rigid erection. His back was arched, his head thrown back, and the only sound he was able to make was a strangled groan. Unable to grin due to the mouthful she was dealing with, she redoubled her attentions to his member, causing him to claw at the bedclothes in reaction.

Taylor worked carefully at him, even as she felt her buttocks being parted once more; this time, the blunt head of Hannah’s weaponised dildo was the thing pushing between them and into her, and she gasped around her father’s cock. That thing was huge!

She felt her anus stretch wider and wider, and still it had not gained full entry. A momentary image crossed her mind of Hannah penetrating her anally with something the size of a small log, and her eyes began to water. Fortunately, Panacea’s alteration to her anal passage made it much more elastic and resilient, and so she wasn’t even beginning to feel pain yet. But it made her wonder what it was going to be like once Hannah got that thing all the way inside her.

In the meantime, Danny needed her attention, and so she gave it to him. He was close to cumming, so close. But she didn’t want him going off quite yet, so she eased off, keeping him on the edge, so close he could taste it, sending him more or less insane with pleasure. Only the bond they shared allowed her to do this to him so easily.

In any case, it was only fair; he had done it to her more than once, kept her on the edge of orgasm for an indeterminate time, until she finally gave in and begged for surcease. Then, of course, he had sent her into a climax that had left her stunned for several minutes afterward.

She finally felt Hannah’s dildo finish gaining entry and begin to slide into her. Her eyes opened wide, but not as wide as she imagined her anal sphincter to be spreading at the moment. It was amazing. Her father had taken her from behind quite regularly, and after the treatment from Panacea, quite thoroughly and occasionally even roughly. But none of that matched up to the sensation she was feeling right now, as Hannah pushed her dildo deep inside Taylor’s quivering rectum.

When Hannah began to thrust into her, Taylor came on the spot. The sensation of being penetrated by that long, thick weapon was one thing, but to actually have it driving between her buttocks, violating her, penetrating her ass, was quite another.

She had thought it was good to be screwed vaginally by that thing.

Hannah started her pace slow, feeling Taylor’s body quivering under her hands. She could tell that the girl was pacing herself with her father’s penis, keeping him on the edge, keeping him erect and almost climaxing, even as the thick dildo pushed into her from behind. But then Hannah smiled a secret smile, squeezed her vaginal muscles in a certain way, and began to thrust harder and deeper.

The insert into Hannah’s vagina had several purposes. One was to transmit any input along the dildo to equivalent sensory outputs for the user of the dildo; the tightness and quivering of Taylor’s ass was translating as a series of highly enjoyable electrical impulses that set Hannah’s nerves dancing. The head of the dildo sent its signals to the insert that was firmly embedded between Hannah’s buttocks; the feedback from that was threatening to drive her into orgasm already.

Another purpose was to allow her to control various functions of the dildo. Designed for hypothetical battlefield interrogations against enemy combatants conditioned against pain, this was intended to make the sexual experience as pleasurable as possible. There were also functions intended to make it as painful as possible, but Hannah kept those firmly locked down.

The squeezing of her vaginal muscles sent signals to the dildo, and Taylor arched her back as a blast of pleasure spread out in all directions from the long phallus currently fully inserted in her anus. Mild electrical currents teased her nerve endings, making her think her ass was on the verge of exploding from the sheer blind pleasure she was feeling.

And then Hannah started fucking her in earnest. Taylor gave herself over to the feeling, the sensations, the knowlege that this was one of the two very best ass-fucks she was ever likely to get, and she totally forgot about keeping Danny on the edge.

Danny felt, second-hand, the orgasm that was building up inside Taylor’s loins, and he felt his own climax threatening. He let out a guttural shout, and felt the fire gathering, exploding, from his balls, from his guts, from every point on his being. He erupted, spurting, jetting, filling Taylor’s mouth with his hot white semen.

Taylor felt herself beginning to orgasm, and felt the sensation of her father letting go at the same time. Hannah had hold of her hips, and was ramming the thick dildo hard into her, over and over again, even as her ass was clenching around its intruding length, even as she gulped and swallowed, trying to keep up with the volume of semen that her father was ejaculating.

Danny came and came and came; Taylor, pulling her mouth from his penis, was splattered by several more wads of his cum. She herself was still cumming, still climaxing, from the sensations that Hannah was eliciting in her body, from the oversized monster of a dildo that the older woman was using to tickle her tonsils via her ass.

Hannah felt her own climax hit, felt it overcome her, felt herself continue to thrust into Taylor’s sadly abused rectum, even as the sensations from her own vagina and rectum whited out her mind with sheer blind orgasmic bliss.

***

They lay there for quite some time, Taylor slumped over Danny – and still spattered with his cum – and Hannah over Taylor, her dildo transformed to a more mundane weapon.

Slowly, Taylor caressed Hannah’s hair, then leaned down and kissed her. “Wow, fuck,” she murmured. “You succeeded.”

Hannah smiled lazily and returned the kiss. “Succeeded at what, dear one?” she asked softly.

“Gave my ass a concussion,” Taylor told her frankly. “I’m not sure I’ll be sitting down any time too soon.”

Hannah chuckled tiredly. “You’re welcome,” she smiled. She crawled up alongside Taylor, kissed her again, and then farther up to lie alongside Danny. “We’re going to shower now,” she whispered. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“Guh,” he groaned. “Don’t think I c’n stand. Or move. What you did to Taylor. I felt. Fuck.” One hand waved vaguely, then fell back to the bed. “Go. Have fun.”

***

They did have fun; two wet and slippery women with quite a lot of imagination and no inhibitions whatsoever can get up to a great deal in a shared shower. Hannah gently washed Taylor’s still-tender ass and pussy, then got down and gave her a going-over with her tongue that left the younger girl shaken and wobbly at the knees; Hannah had to support her when she orgasmed, so that she did not fall.

In return, after the shower, Taylor borrowed Hannah’s weaponised dildo and bent her over the washstand. Hannah watched in the mirror as Taylor slid it into her tight vaginal passage, and cried out again and again as she came, feeling her own device penetrating to her very depths.

Afterward, still drying themselves, they strolled back into the bedroom, to find Danny somewhat recovered. “So what’s on the agenda now?” he asked.

“I think it’s time we let them know we’re alive,” decided Hannah. “Danny, can you get me more clothes?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. Taylor?”

Taylor reached out and took his hand, and in moments, Hannah had a full outfit laid out on the bed.

The kisses and caresses meant that the normal time it took them to dress was increased quite a bit, but they knew that it was time to clock on, so playtime was over. Even so, it nearly devolved into yet another threesome more than once.

“How are we going to play this?” asked Danny. “Full truth, half-truth, lie about where we’ve been and what we’ve been doing ...?”

Miss Militia – for she was fully in that persona now – smiled behind her scarf. “None of the above,” she declared. “We say nothing. No explanations. Leviathan is on the moon due to us. Do you think they’ll begrudge us a three-day holiday?”

Taylor nodded slowly. “I hope the Director sees it that way.”

Danny grinned. “We’ll be fine, kiddo.”

Taylor squeezed his hand. “Kiss before we go?”

Danny nodded; Miss Militia pulled down her scarf.

Danny kissed Hannah, slowly and lovingly. Then he kissed Taylor, equally lovingly. Finally, Hannah kissed Taylor, their hands caressing one another’s costumed bodies.

“When I said I was not interested in women ...” Hannah murmured, “I was incorrect. Or rather, I did not know of my interest.”

Taylor smiled and kissed her again. “Oh yeah,” she replied. “Oh yeah.”

They readied themselves.

“Three,” said Pathfinder.

They joined hands.

“Two.”

Each of them unconsciously took a deep breath.

“One.”

Purple-brown smoke billowed.

They went.


	26. The Big Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Vicky move out, while Danny, Taylor and Hannah let their superiors know that they are still alive.

Glory Girl landed on the street outside the house with Panacea in her arms.

“Are you sure it’ll be all right?” asked the healer, as Victoria set her on her feet.

“Sure,” Glory Girl assured her, and gave her a kiss. “Mom’ll come around. She was just a little stressed, before.”

***

“Absolutely not!” shouted Carol Dallon. “I will not have her living under my roof!”

“But Mom, this is Amy,” Victoria coaxed her. “She’s lived here for years.”

“Until she seduced you into her bed!” snapped Brandish. “She’s your sister, for God’s sake!”

“Adopted sister, Mom,” Vicky corrected her patiently. “No relation. They even grant exemptions to adopted siblings to marry, these days.”

“I know she’s adopted! She’s the daughter of a villain! I took her into my home due to the goodness of my heart, and what does she do? She stabs me in the back! Tries to take my real daughter, my flesh and blood, away from me!” Carol shook her head.

“Victoria,” she went on, more quietly, “you need to see how dangerous she is.”

“No,” Vicky’s voice was stubborn. “I love her. I want to be with her.”

“Then I’m too late.” Carol’s tone was bleak. “She’s already influenced you against me. Poisoned your mind.”

“But she hasn’t!” protested Vicky earnestly. “I still want to live here! You’re still my Mom! Nothing’s changed! Just ... Amy and I will be sleeping in the same bed.”

“And doing much more than that, from what I caught her doing to you,” commented Carol acidly.

Vicky blushed. “Mom, that was a private moment between us.”

“For Christ’s sake, Victoria, she had you bent over the bed like a whore while she shoved a strap-on dildo into you!” shouted Carol. “You used to be straight! You used to go out with Gallant! What happened?”

For a moment Vicky relived the last time she and Amy had made love. Amy had indeed bent her over the bed. The language they had used to one another – sensual, perverted language, provocative and arousing – would not have made her mother any happier. And the feeling of Amy’s hands on her body, of the thick dildo sliding into her tight wet pussy, over and over ...

“We met someone who opened our eyes,” Vicky told her mother softly. “And Amy opened up to me about her feelings. We ... explored them. And I found that I liked them. It’s as simple as that.”

Carol threw up her hands. “It’s never as simple as that. There’s always something deeper. And her father is a villain!”

“Mom, Amy is not her dad, whoever the hell he is!” protested Vicky. “I love her! She loves me!”

Carol Dallon shook her head adamantly. “I cannot allow her to live under my roof, not any more.”

Vicky took a deep breath, and played her last card. “Then I’m moving out too.”

Carol stared. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can and I will.”

“Where will you stay?”

“Amy says she has an offer already.”

Carol shook her head. “I can’t allow you to go.”

“Mom, I’m sixteen. If I want to go, I can go.”

“You’re making a huge mistake.”

“Not as big as the one you’re making.”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Fine. Go, then. But don’t blame me when you come crawling back.”

“That’ll be the day.”

***

Amy looked up as Vicky appeared at the door, hefting two large suitcases.

“Our worldly goods,” she announced, dropping one case to the ground with a thud. “That one’s yours.”

Amy frowned. “That’s all?” she asked. “I thought we had more stuff than that.”

Vicky shrugged. “All Mom would let me take.”

“Oh well, I guess it will have to do.” Amy stepped forward and embraced Vicky. “Thanks for doing this, for being with me. It means so much.”

Glory Girl kissed her adopted sister, holding her close. “I love you, Ames. That’s all there is to it.”

Amy snuggled into her sister’s arms. She never wanted to let her go.

***

Aisha glanced out the window. “Hey, bro, we call a cab?”

Brian looked up from where he was mopping the kitchen floor. “Uh, no. Why?”

“Because one just pulled up outside. Ah, wait, no, someone’s getting out.”

“Who?”

“Fuck me. Looks like Glory Girl and Panacea.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Come see for yourself.”

Brian lodged the mop in the bucket and came through into the living room. “Huh. Wonder what’s going on here?”

***

Amy paid off the cabbie while Vicky hefted the suitcases out of the trunk of the taxicab. They turned to look at the house.

“You sure this is the right address?” asked Vicky, frowning.

Amy nodded earnestly. “Taylor wrote it down for me once.”

Shrugging, Glory Girl hefted both cases. “Well, let’s go.”

They walked up the path, Amy in the lead. As she got to the bottom of the steps, the door opened. A tall black guy stood there, with a frown on his face.

***

Brian watched the two teen heroes advancing up the path; he went through into the front hall and opened the door.

“Uh, hi,” he greeted them. “Are you in the right place?”

“I hope so,” replied Panacea. “Danny and Taylor Hebert said we could stay over here for a bit?”

“Ah,” replied Brian. “I’m Brian Laborn. Come on in. We can talk about this.”

Amy trotted up the steps, followed by Victoria. However, as the blonde put her foot on the bottom step, there was a splintering crack and the wood broke in half.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “I broke your step.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Brian assured her. “I’ll fix it later. I think it was rotten anyway.”

Victoria looked down at the step, split in half under the weight of both her own body, and both suitcases. “I’ll help you do it,” she promised. Lifting into the air, she drifted in through the door, trying not to break anything else on the way.

***

Amy and Vicky sat on the couch with Aisha; Brian had gone back to mopping the kitchen.

“So yeah, before they went off to fight Leviathan, Danny and Taylor sort of said we could stay,” Amy told Aisha. She sniffled. “They’ve done so much for Vicky and me, and now they’re ...”

“Upstairs,” grinned Aisha.

Amy and Vicky stared at her.

She shrugged. “They teleported back here, first thing.”

Amy sprang to her feet. “I need to see them -!”

Aisha blocked her way, still grinning. “Nope. We’re pretending we don’t know they’re still alive. We were actually heading out soon, so they could sneak down and get something to eat.”

“But – why?” asked Vicky blankly. “What are they doing up there?”

“Fucking like rabid weasels, is our best guess,” Brian supplied from the kitchen, trying and failing to hide a grin. “We think they’ve got Miss Militia in there with them.”

Amy felt her eyes trying to cross. “Danny and Taylor in a threesome with Miss Militia?”

Aisha shrugged. “Hey, it seems to work for them.”

“So,” Brian told them. “You two can move into the spare room for the time being. I’ll move down to the sofa bed.”

“And then we can go out,” announced Aisha, “and get something to eat, while our resident heroes keep pretending to be dead so they can screw each others’ brains out in private.”

For some reason, Amy found that incredibly funny. She was still giggling when they left the house.

***

Two Days Later

Director Piggot leaned on her desk and glared at the three capes.

“So I’m supposed to believe that you teleported blind to the middle of nowhere, and you’ve only just now recovered enough to get back here?” she demanded.

“Well, no,” Pathfinder clarified. “We just spent the last three days having sex in every way possible. But that’s the story.”

The Director seemed to be trying not to choke on something. Eventually, she cleared her throat, and looked at Miss Militia. “And you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

The flag-wearing cape shrugged. “What can I say? We faced an Endbringer. We put him on the moon. I believe we were due a little holiday, a little rest and recreation.”

“A great deal of sex,” interjected Compass Rose, cheekily.

Piggot took a long breath in through her nostrils. “Granted. But couldn’t you have simply told us? We’ve been in mourning, here!”

Pathfinder took his helmet off. He leaned forward and met the Director’s gaze. “And how long before someone would have found a really, really good excuse to interrupt our little holiday?”

Piggot tried to meet his gaze. “Maybe we wouldn’t,” she muttered, but her voice lacked conviction.

“Listen,” Compass Rose cut in briskly. “Let’s cut through the bullshit. Dad and I fuck, a lot. And Hannah is welcome in our bed, any time. We’re gonna keep doing this. It’s a thing, with us. And we just put a fucking Endbringer on the fucking moon.”

She took a deep breath. “It’s not like you’re gonna punish us for being absent without leave. So I’m sorry, but if you keep yelling at us, I’m going to start making out with my dad, on your desk, until you either stop yelling at us or punish us. Hannah, you’re welcome to join in.”

She shrugged out of her coat and turned to Pathfinder, pulling him to her. Their lips met, molding hungrily together, as their arms went around one another. She moved backward until her buttocks nudged the desk; Danny lifted her up until she was sitting on the edge.

Piggot lasted until Danny began to unzip Taylor’s top, then she gave in.

“Okay, fine,” she exclaimed, pushing her chair back from her desk. “You win. No punishment, no more yelling. Now put your costume back on.”

Demurely, Taylor zipped up her top, hopped off the desk, and shrugged into her coat.

“And a damn good job, all three of you,” added Piggot reluctantly. “We’ll put the story out about your return. A remote island, was it?”

Danny nodded, then replaced his helmet. “Somewhere in the South Pacific should do the job.”

The Director glanced at Miss Militia. “And you’re on board with this?”

Miss Militia shrugged in return. “Why not? It’s the longest time I’ve had a chance to do what I wanted to do in ... well, forever. And I find myself enjoying it. And it’s not like we haven’t earned it.”

Piggot pressed her lips together. “Fine. Right. Go see Armsmaster. He’ll need to debrief you.”

Danny and Taylor were already laughing before the purple-brown smoke billowed around the three of them. It took Piggot a few more seconds before she realised the unwitting pun that she’d just made.

Opening the bottom drawer on the left hand side of her desk, she pulled out the bottle of bonded whiskey that she kept there. Pouring herself a healthy slug, she threw it back in one practised motion.

Capes. They’ll be the death of me yet.

***

“And we’re back from our ad break, and we have in the studio three surprise guests. The heroes of the latest Endbringer attack, back from the dead in a surprising turn of events!”

Compass Rose and Miss Militia tried not to squint at the bright studio lights. Compass Rose’s helmet had one cracked goggle lens, and one shattered. Pathfinder’s merely had a cracked lens, but there was also a crack down the side of the helmet itself.

All three wore simulacra of their standard costumes, torn and tattered and a size larger than normal, so that the clothing hung on their bodies, making them look starving and malnourished. The sleeve of Compass Rose’s coat had been removed; around her leg was a neat white bandage with an artistic bloodstain on it.

The show host, to make the contrast even more visible, was immaculately dressed; his trousers had a razor crease, and his hair looked so gelled that it could probably be lifted away in one piece from his scalp.

Each of them was also dishevelled in other ways; Miss Militia’s hair was disarranged, and Pathfinder showed distinct stubble on his chin. Compass Rose had to remember to limp, any time she walked anywhere on her ‘wounded’ leg, and there was a large scrape on her cheek,

“Compass Rose! Pathfinder! And the winsome Miss Militia!”

All in all, the costuming department had done a splendid job. They truly looked like a group of shipwreck survivors, as opposed to people who had spent the last three days naked and sweaty on a mattress.

The show host turned to Compass Rose. “So tell me, how did you and your fellow capes pull off this magnificent escape?”

“Well, Larry ...” she began.

***

Lisa relaxed on the couch and watched the interview. Rachel sat beside her, her dogs sitting at her feet.

“Huh,” muttered Rachel. “They’re alive.”

Lisa nodded. “Yeah. Figured as much.”

Rachel gave her an irritated glance. “You always say that.”

“And I’m always right.”

“And you’re always a fucking annoying smartass.”

Lisa grinned. “So how are things between you and Armsmaster?”

Rachel grunted. “He’s an annoying prick, but ... he understands. What it’s like.”

Suddenly, Lisa burst out laughing. Rachel looked like she was going to hit her, but Lisa gasped, “Not you, not you – the interview.”

Rachel looked back at the TV. “What about it?”

“They teleported to a remote Pacific island and then came home when they recovered. Or that’s what they say. It’s bullshit from beginning to end.”

“Yeah? What really happened?”

“They teleported home, and they’ve been fucking for the last three days.”

Rachel stared at her. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Lisa shook her head, still giggling. “Nope. It’s written all over their faces, their outfits, everything. If Danny isn’t screwing Miss Militia, then I don’t know anything.”

Rachel shook her head. She didn’t know anything about people. Something like this? She’d take Lisa’s word for it. As annoying as the bitch could be, she was almost certain to be right about it.

Still, she was kind of glad Taylor and Danny were alive. They’d done right by the Undersiders, saved their lives. And putting Leviathan on the moon had saved everyone from an even worse fight, which was a good thing.

After all, some of her dogs might have gotten hurt.


	27. Definitely More Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisha learns about house rules; Armsmaster and Bitch reach an understanding; Gallant and Vista enjoy one anothers' company

“ - and then we came home,” Taylor concluded.

The others in the living room considered her words. The second sofa made the living room a little more crowded, and the TV had had to be moved so the gaming console would not get in the way, but it could now be called 'cosy'. Certainly, there was enough room for six people to sit, without dragging chairs in from the kitchen.

Aisha snickered. “Came home, and straight away started fucking each others' brains out, you mean.”

Danny sighed. “Aisha, what Taylor and I do in private should stay private. And someone your age shouldn't really be talking about that sort of thing.”

She cackled out loud. “My age? Taylor's what, fifteen? I'm only a year younger than her. If you two have been fucking as much as I think you have, she's had more cock than most women twice her age.”

Brian put his face in his hands. “Aish,” he muttered. “Shut the fuck up, please.”

Taylor was blushing bright red, and both Amy and Vicky were also looking very uncomfortable.

“Aisha Laborn,” snapped Danny. “You will apologise to Taylor, and then you will go to your room. Now.”

Aisha looked startled. “What the fuck?” she blurted. “You can't send me to my room! I'm not eight years old!”

Danny gave her a hard stare. “Yes, I can; if I'm going to consent to you living under my roof, then you will consent to my rules. You may be fourteen, but you're acting like a little child. You _will_ go to your room, and you will _not_ come out for one hour.”

Aisha rose to her feet. “Well, fuck you,” she stated defiantly. “If you're gonna treat me like that -”

Brian stood up as well, and faced her off. “No, Aisha,” he snapped. “Do _not_ finish that sentence.”

She stared at him. “Brian? What the fuck?”

He took a deep breath. “They _took us in,_ Aish. They're feeding us, taking care of us. Out of the goodness of their hearts. We owe them. We owe them a lot. And they do _not_ deserve this sort of shit in return. So how about just a little respect?”

She stared at him for a long moment, the stubborn pride still showing in her expression. And then, slowly, it softened, and she suddenly looked vulnerable, and her eyes dropped.

“I don't – I don't know what to do, big bro,” she admitted. “I've had Mom's boyfriends treat me like crap so often ...”

“ … that when you meet a good guy, you don't know how to react properly, I get it,” Danny put in, almost gently. “But the fact remains that you screwed up. This happens. You just have to learn not to. So go to your room. Have a nap. Think about what you said. What you could have said instead. When you come out, it'll all be forgotten. We won't hold it against you. Okay?”

She blinked. “You mean all that?”

Taylor nodded. “He does. He's nice like that.” She put her arm around Danny's shoulders; they leaned in toward each other.

Aisha took a deep breath. “Well, okay. Fine. I guess I can try out this 'going to my room' crap once.” She shot Danny what was intended to be a stern glance. “But don't get too used to it, all right?”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Danny promised her, his face straight.

“Right. So long as that's settled.” Aisha headed for the front hall. They heard her footsteps ascending the stairs. Moving along the corridor. The bedroom door opening and closing.

Danny let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. “Whew. That was not something I was expecting to have to do.” He nodded to Brian. “That can't have been easy. Thanks for the backup.”

Brian shrugged. “She hasn't had an easy time of it, but you're right. You have to set boundaries, and maintain them. Now that she knows that one's there, she'll probably keep clear of it.”

“She mentioned her mother's boyfriends,” Taylor commented. “That bad, huh?”

“Well, apart from the one who tried to molest her,” Brian noted, his fists clenching hard, “they've alternated between utterly ignoring her, or cracking down hard. Not one of them's treated her fairly. And she does have a problem with short attention span. So it's not all her fault. However ...”

Danny nodded. “However, yeah. We have to let her know where the line is, and not be too harsh if she steps over it by accident.”

Brian gave him a grateful look. “Thanks. This is the first shot at a proper home that she's had since … well, since forever. I'd hate for her to cut and run just because you enforced the rules on her.”

Taylor let Danny go, and stood up to face him. “We're not going to kick her out either,” she promised. “Aisha can be annoying, but she's a teenager; it sort of comes with the territory.” She stepped forward and hugged him; after a startled moment, he returned the embrace. “I know I speak for Dad when I say that you're both welcome here as long as you want to stay.”

Brian's arms tightened around her. “That means a lot to me. Thanks.”

She leaned into the hug, enjoying the feeling of Brian's arms around her. Almost as much as she enjoyed Danny's arms around her.

_Wow,_ she thought suddenly. _Am I getting turned on by this?_

It was a weird thought; sure, she had had sex with Chris. But that had been more to satisfy her curiosity. With Brian, it seemed … deeper. She knew she was attracted to guys, or at least to Danny, but Brian was the only other guy who seemed to bring out these feelings in her. _I wonder if he feels the same way?_

Letting go the hug, she reluctantly pulled away from him. A covert glance at his face revealed nothing of his thoughts. _Maybe it was just me. Maybe I'd better leave well enough alone._

“So anyway,” she went on brightly, sitting next to Danny once more. “What are your plans, Vicky? Amy?”

“Well,” Vicky began slowly. “I'm not going to leave Amy. Not ever. So we'll get jobs or something, I guess, and when we can afford it, we'll move into our own place.” She took Amy's hand and squeezed it; Amy squeezed back, smiling at her. “And when we turn eighteen, we're going to get married.”

“And then kids,” Amy supplied, stealing a kiss from Vicky.

Danny blinked. “Kids?”

Vicky nodded seriously. “Oh, yeah. Amy can do all sorts of cool stuff. She can make me pregnant, or make it so I can get her pregnant.” She kissed Amy again, tenderly. “Maybe one from each of us?”

Amy snuggled in to her. “At the very least,” she agreed.

“Actually, that's a job you could charge for,” Taylor suggested. “Fertility consultant. You can make sure parents get exactly the baby they want. Ensure they're able to carry to term, every time.”

Amy looked interested, and turned to Vicky. “What do you think?”

Vicky smiled, and kissed her again. “I think you could do whatever you wanted to, Ames,” she murmured.

Brian sat and watched the two girls with a slight smile on his face. They were so obviously silly in love with each other. Vicky, he gathered, was new to the lesbian concept, but she had fallen very hard for her sister in the process. Amy had loved Vicky for quite a bit longer.

_But they're happy together. This is a good thing._

And in the meantime, he had other things to worry about.

_I hadn't noticed just how sexy Taylor was, until she hugged me. Aisha was right – she_ _**does** _ _have a very nice ass._

_But she's in a committed relationship with Danny. They might have let Miss Militia in on it just for fun, but I doubt Danny would take well to me propositioning his daughter, even if he_ _**is** _ _fucking her._ _**Especially** _ _if he's fucking her._

_As if she'd even look at me, with what she's got with him._

_And – irony of ironies – the only other girl in the house is my_ _**sister** _ _. Which is not going to happen._

_So it looks like I'm gonna be on my own for a while._

_Oh well, so long as Aisha is happy and safe, I'm good._

_I'll just have to live with it._

<><>

Rachel galloped down the road on Bentley's back, urging him on with knee pressure. Alongside her were Brutus and Judas; on the other side, Armsmaster on his custom bike.

_That bike is good,_ she admitted, _but it can't do what my dogs can do._

And Armsmaster understood that, she knew. In the time they had been teamed up together, he had devised very effective tactics, ones that she could understand and implement.

Ahead of them were two cars, containing members of the ABB, or what had once been the ABB. Unwilling to join the Merchants, and unable to become part of the Empire Eighty-Eight, the majority of Lung's gang had gone freelance, driving the crime rate up a few notches. This group had just robbed a bunch of shops, and Armsmaster had tasked the two of them with capturing them.

“Send them left!” bellowed Armsmaster, then peeled hard in that direction down a side street. Surprised, Rachel looked ahead; sure enough, the street ahead ended in a T-junction. She grasped the plan at once; _I drive them on to him, he stops them._

She smiled covertly. _He really does understand how my dogs work._ It raised an unfamiliar feeling, a warm feeling, in her chest.

But she had no time for that. With a whistle and a gesture, she sent Brutus and Judas surging ahead, bolting down the right-hand pavement, scattering civilians as they went. With another command, Brutus leaped, gained the top of a parking structure, and galloped across the top of it.

He would, she knew, cut the corner and leap down into the street beyond. This would provide an adequate reason why the robbers should not turn right. Judas, steadily gaining on the cars, would provide another reason.

Judas was alongside the lead car, snapping and snarling at the passenger side window, when the intersection loomed ahead. The car driver, predictably, swerved to the left. The driver of the second car, perhaps sensing that they were being herded, tried to slip in behind Judas and turn right, but then he saw Brutus bounding down the road toward him, all bony plates and huge teeth, and thought better of it. He turned left also, and thus the trap was sprung.

Armsmaster stood in the middle of the next intersection, next to his bike. He held his halberd in both hands, pointed at the oncoming cars. Rachel imagined it crackling ominously, though of course she could not hear it from this range. The driver of the lead car accelerated, tried to swerve around him, but then the engine died and it rapidly slowed to a halt. The second car, too close behind, attempted to evade, and clipped the rear corner of the car in front.

It spun, out of control, heading for Armsmaster. Rachel whistled sharply, and Judas body-blocked the vehicle sideways; it hit a bus stop and flipped on to its roof. Judas leaped _over_ the armoured hero, landing and digging his claws into the road beyond in his eagerness to get back to his designated prey.

Moments later, it was all under control. Rachel had Bentley and Brutus peel the top off of one of the cars, while Judas menaced the inhabitants of the other car. Sufficiently cowed, they climbed from the vehicles, and surrendered themselves to the Protectorate cape. Rachel watched from her perch atop Bentley, her other dogs close alongside her. The looks of terror given her by the ex-ABB goons were almost matched by the stares of trepidation from onlookers and police alike, but she didn't give a shit. She'd done the job, and done it well.

<><>

The argument started after they got back to the PRT building. He had curtly ordered her to attend to him in a briefing room. She followed him in, not sure what was going on.

_He's angry,_ she decided, _but why?_

“You could have done better out there today,” he told her, without preamble.

She stared. “Like hell I could,” she retorted. “My dogs performed perfectly. Better than perfect. We _stopped_ those clowns, and no-one even got hurt.” _Not even you,_ she added silently, in a rare display of tact.

“You and your dogs scared a great many people, and caused thousands of dollars of property damage,” he informed her.

“My dogs,” she growled menacingly, “hurt _no-one_ without my express orders. Yeah, sure, they shouldered a few cars aside. Stupid morons didn't get out of the way in time.”

“It's a PRT thing,” he snapped, his voice rising. “We need to look _good_ while we're doing the job.”

He took off his helmet and placed it on the table; his hair was disarranged and sweaty from the long day.

“Fuck looking good,” she responded hotly. “My dogs showed everyone out there today that we are not to be fucked with. And I notice you didn't object to Judas saving _your_ sorry ass.”

“By shouldering the car into a bus stop,” he snarled. “If there'd been people there -”

“- I would have told him to shoulder it somewhere else!” she shouted. They were face to face now, mere inches apart. “I wasn't going to let you get hurt!”

There was a moment of silence, while those words hung in the air of the conference room. And then they were in each other's arms.

His armour was strange and bulky, but his lips were hot on hers. She felt his beard, rough on her chin, but she didn't care. His emotions were repressed and distorted, much like hers. He was a kindred soul. Right now, she was angry with him. But she wanted him so much.

He pulled his armour off, hastily, breathing raggedly. She stripped out of her top, her undershirt, her pants. By the time he was down to his underwear, she was naked, but for her socks.

Frantic hands almost tore the singlet and boxers from him, and then they were on the floor, rolling over and over on the thick carpet. They kissed again and again; there was no finesse, no gentle touches. Just two bodies in heat.

She got up on hands and knees; he got up behind her. His erection was hard and thick; she groaned as he pushed at her hot wet entrance. She spread her thighs more, pushed back at him. When he entered her, they both cried out at once. Slowly, excruciatingly, he penetrated to the very depths of her. She shoved hard back at him, and he began to fuck her.

It wasn't making love, and it wasn't rape. It was purely consensual, but it was fucking. Hard, unyielding, full-on fucking.

He reached under her and squeezed her breasts as he rammed his cock into her, as hard and as deeply as he could manage. She grunted with each thrust, her breath hissing between her teeth, as she pushed back at him, over and over again.

Part way through, he pulled out and rolled her on to her back; eyes glazed with lust, she spread her thighs, to let him take her once more, sliding his manhood between her distended labia, and deep inside her tight slippery wetness.

They kissed as he thrust into her, clinging to one another, rolling over and over so that first he was on top, and then she was. The sex was frantic, their breathing harsh.

And then she came, crying out wordlessly, her nails digging into his back. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened them, and he thrust even harder into her. She threw her head back and came again and again as he plunged his cock hard inside her.

When he finally let go, it was as if the top of his head was coming off. He had only been with a woman once before, many years ago, and he had somewhat forgotten how good it could be. She bit his shoulder as he came inside her, and he could feel the pulsating of her vaginal canal that said she was coming herself, again.

<><>

Afterward, he rolled off of her and lay beside her on the carpet. They stared at the ceiling, panting heavily, covered in sweat.

She recovered first, and started locating her clothes, pulling them on.

He got up as well, and located his underwear. “We tell no-one about this,” he told her.

“Well, no shit,” she retorted, stepping into her jeans. “We probably broke about a dozen of your precious fucking rules, just then.”

He paused, looking at her. “Do you think what we did was wrong?”

She looked back at him, pulling her undershirt down over her breasts. “I don't give a shit about the rules. But I might want to do that again sometime. So we don't give people a chance to tell us no.”

“Ah,” he replied faintly. “Yeah, that works too.”

She came over to him, then, and stared at him from a distance of about twelve inches. He thought she was going to kiss him; with the sexual urge temporarily abated, he thought, it would be very awkward.

But she didn't kiss him; she just stared hard into his face. Whatever she saw there seemed to satisfy her. “This thing we've got,” she told him at last. “I can work with it.”

Leaving him staring at her back, she left the room.

<><>

“Hey, Missy, wait up!”

Vista turned and saw Dean, hurrying to catch up with her, just as she was moving toward the door that led out of the Wards' area.

“What?” she asked, but stopped anyway.

He caught up with her, and smiled. “I was just wondering if … well, you'd like to go out on patrol with me or something. So we can talk.”

“Talk?” she repeated.

He nodded. “Yeah. About what happened … just before Leviathan.”

She blinked, and coloured slightly. “Ah. That.”

He could see the red flush of embarrassment around her, and held up his hands placatingly. “Look, we nearly went on a date. There's some feelings there, and I think we need to address those feelings. Okay?”

She stared at him uncertainly. She recalled the incident all too well. She had more or less bullied him into kissing her. When she thought back on it later, she felt profoundly ill at ease; had their positions been reversed, that would have been sexual assault. Was it so different, if she was a girl and him a guy?

She hunched her shoulders slightly. “Look, if you're going to yell at me for what I did, just yell and get it over with, all right? I know I did the wrong thing, and I shouldn't have.”

He took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. “I don't want to yell at you, Missy. I never did.” His voice was gentle, causing her to look up at him in startlement.

“Oh, uh,” she stammered, taken off guard, “maybe we can talk then. Patrol? Uh, I'm off the roster tonight.”

“Whereas I have patrol with Dennis, later,” he mused. “Can you wait a moment?”

“Sure,” she agreed, wandering over to a chair and sitting down.

Dean hurried off, and Missy grinned as she watched him talking urgently to Clockblocker. They both returned to where she was sitting.

“So, Missy,” Dennis addressed her cheerfully, “it seems that Dean wants you to come out on patrol with him instead of me. Are you okay with this?”

She nodded. “Sure. So long as I'm back before ten.”

Dennis grinned and rubbed his hands together. _“Ex_ cellent. There's a TV show I was hoping to catch. So you'll take the patrol for me?”

Missy shrugged. “Said I would, didn't I?”

“You're the best, short stuff.” Dennis leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, then tried to do the same to Dean.

“Hey, get off!” Dean protested, fending him away.

“But I wuvs you!” Dennis replied in a very campy voice.

Dean shoved him away. “Go watch your TV show.”

Missy was giggling helplessly by the time Dennis finally relented and moved off, chuckling.

“That boy,” Dean declared, “needs help.”

Missy nearly fell off her chair.

<><>

Standing atop the Forsberg Gallery, they surveyed the city. At twenty-six storeys, they were far higher than nearly anything nearby, and Brockton Bay was spread out like a diorama below them.

“Quiet,” commented Vista.

Gallant nodded. “I think everyone's in shock after Leviathan.”

“How long you think before they fix the Boardwalk?”

He shrugged. “A lot less time than it would have normally taken to fix the sort of damage that an Endbringer normally does.”

She grinned. “True that.” Taking a deep breath, she turned to him. “So. You wanted to talk.”

He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he replied. “Yeah. I did.”

“Well, before you say anything,” she stated, “I just want to say that I'm sorry.”

He blinked. “ … why?”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “Because I made you kiss me. I guilted you into it. It was wrong, Dean. If _you_ had guilted _me_ into a kiss, then that would have been sexual exploitation of a minor. There would have been so much trouble. Hell, I could still get in trouble for making you kiss me. I was wrong. There's no two ways about it. So I'm sorry. And I'll never force you do do that again. I promise.”

She had to rush the end of her little speech, because her voice was starting to break, and tears were trickling down her face. She turned and looked away from him, not wanting to see the look of disgust or anger that must surely be on his face.

His arms went around her from behind, and she was held warmly, securely.

“Missy,” he murmured softly, right into her ear, “if I had not wanted to kiss you, then I would not have kissed you. And if you regret kissing me, then that is a pity.” A long pause. “Because I do not regret kissing you.”

Very slowly, she turned around in his arms.

“I … I don't understand,” she told him frankly. “What do you mean by that?”

His helmet, she saw, was hanging at his belt, allowing his blond hair to wave free in the breeze. He unclasped her visor with gentle fingers, and lifted it away. Then he brushed back an errant strand of hair from her forehead, in a motion that made her heart lurch with desire.

“I mean,” he told her softly, “that I have thought long and hard about things such as love. And pride. And blindness. About how I fought with Vicky nearly every other date. About how you have always been there for me, no matter how I treated you like a child, like just another Ward. About how we miss those things that should be most precious to us, when they are right in front of us.”

“Dean - ?” she whispered, looking up at his face, dimly lit by the city lights below.

Slowly his lips lowered to meet hers; she shuddered as he kissed her, her eyes drifting shut. She held him tight, her lips melding to his, her tongue erotically twining around his. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was limp in his arms, clinging tightly to him.

“If you will have me,” he murmured, “I'm willing to go on another date.”

With strength he did not know she possessed, she pulled his head down and kissed him again, fiercely. “On one condition,” she told him boldly.

“And what's that?” he asked curiously. “Not sex; I don't have any protection on me.”

She grinned. “No, not sex. Not quite.”

<><>

Naked from the waist down, Vista lay back on the curving glass roof of the Forsberg Gallery, as Gallant steadily and thoroughly ate her tight young pussy. She arched her back and moaned as he licked and lapped and nibbled at her tender sex, teasing her clitoris to an alarming degree of arousal. Her taut young buttocks pressed against the cold glass, but she didn't care; Dean's mouth on her tingling vagina was driving her right out of her mind, to destinations unknown.

He couldn't believe how soft and delicate her labia were, how tender and sensitive the inner folds of her pussy. Every time he touched them with his tongue or lips, she quivered and cried out; when he sucked on her clitoris, she came explosively. Gingerly, he slid a finger into her, slowly penetrating her virgin orifice; she clamped down on it, and then came again.

_When we make love, we're going to have to be very careful indeed,_ he decided. But there was no doubt in his mind that they were going to have sex, and not too far into the future. In the meantime, he was giving her pleasure, and enjoying the act all the more because of her reactions.

When he had given her all the orgasms he could for the moment, he sat up and wiped his mouth and chin. She lay back for a few moments longer, gathering her scattered wits, before sitting up herself.

“Fuckin' wow,” she murmured. “Are you sure you didn't slip it in? Because if sex is better than that, I can't wait.”

Solemnly, he shook his head, suppressing a grin. “Nope. Not till we can be sure of privacy and protection both.”

“ … right,” she agreed, crossing her legs unselfconsciously. He found the sight unbearably erotic. “So, a date on Saturday night?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Movies?”

“Movies,” she confirmed. “And then whatever happens after … happens.”

Smiling, he leaned in and kissed her. She returned it.

“I can't wait,” she breathed.

He wholeheartedly agreed.

_Nor can I._

 


	28. Interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny realises that he can further one of his goals in life, while Amy and Vicky explore their relationship, and Taylor and Brian share an interesting experience.

[Author's Note: the PHO segment was created using the tool created by Conceptualist.]

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♦Topic: They Went There  
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Doings ► Compass Rose & Pathfinder

Bagrat (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Posted on May 15, 2011:

So, is it me, or have the Protectorate been kind of holding back on us regarding Pathfinder's power level?  
I mean, seriously, holy FUCKING HELL.

(Showing Page 1 of 4)

PsychoGecko  (The Guy In The Know) (Power Guru)  
Replied on May 15, 2011:  
Yeah, maybe just a little.  Fucking hell.  The MOON.  They PUT.  LEVIATHAN. ON. THE. MOON.  
Excuse me, just gonna have a bit of a cape-squee here for a bit.  
Okay, better now.  
That's Mover 12.  At minimum.

XxVoid_CowboyxX  (Temp-banned)  
Replied on May 15, 2011:  
Uh, are we sure they actually put him all the way on the moon?

Bagrat  (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 15, 2011:  
Yes.

PsychoGecko  (The Guy In The Know) (Power Guru)  
Replied on May 15, 2011:  
Yes.  Seriously.  One minute Leviathan was tearing up downtown, the next he wasn't there.  Telescopes have seen him on the moon.

HammerStein  (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on May 15, 2011:  
Does anyone know if Compass Rose is single?  I so want to date her.

Bagrat  (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 16, 2011:  
Dude, I think she might be with Pathfinder, you know.  They're always holding hands.

VictorCharlie  (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 16, 2011:  
That's some serious badass.  Fly in, grab a fucking ENDBRINGER, and say, "hey, you're not wanted here.  Have some time out.  On the fucking MOON."

DogbertIsMyGod  (The Guy In The Know)  
Replied on May 17, 2011:  
So does anyone else have any idea if they survived or not?

PsychoGecko  (The Guy In The Know) (Power Guru)  
Replied on May 17, 2011:  
Well, unless the jump *there* wore them out, they should have been able to jump back.  Leaving Leviathan behind would have taken so much strain off of them.

XxVoid_CowboyxX  (Temp-banned)  
Replied on May 17, 2011:  
What I want to know is, why did Pathfinder even take Compass Rose with him?  Why not just do a solo jump with Leviathan?  Why risk her life too?

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4

(Showing Page 2 of 4)

Panacea  (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave)  
Replied on May 17, 2011:  
All I know is, they're the kindest people I've ever met.  Personally, I think they survived.  Because that's the sort of people they are.  
And Void Cowboy?  Compass Rose went along because she needed to.

Armsmaster  (Verified Cape) (Protectorate ENE)  
Replied on May 17, 2011:  
Miss Militia went along with them too; she was piloting the craft that they were in.  We do not yet know their fate, but I worked alongside Miss Militia for years, and she would have never hesitated an instant to carry out a sacrifice like that.

Bagrat  (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 18, 2011:  
And there you have it, folks.  
Well, if they aren't back in a week, I'm gonna petition for one minute of silence on the board for their memory, as well as any memorial service anyone wants to put on.

XxVoid_CowboyxX  (Temp-banned)  
Replied on May 18, 2011:  
CENSORED

Herakles  (Moderator) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 18, 2011:  
Okay, Void Cowboy, whether what you said is true or not, they're not proven dead yet, so revealing information like that is not on.  Have a temp ban.

Bagrat  (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
Holy shit.  They're alive.  THEY'RE ALIVE.  
They made it back.  
Thank god.

PsychoGecko  (Veteran Member) (Power Guru)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
Holy shit.  This isn't a hoax, is it?  Tell me it's not a hoax.

CompassRose  (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
Not a hoax.  We are back, and glad to be here.  I've been reading the nice thoughts, and I have to say, thanks to you all for the kind words.  Pathfinder says hi, too.

Panacea  (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
Oh god yes, they're back, I am so glad.

GloryGirl  (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
What Amy said, in spades.  They've done so much for us, for all of us.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4

(Showing Page 3 of 4)

Bagrat  (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
Well, damn.  That's what I call a real classic back-from-the-dead.  
So, gotta ask.  Rumors about how you did the same thing to Crawler, a while back.  True, not true?

HammerStein  (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
Uh, Compass Rose, I hope I didn't annoy you when I asked about your status before.  Just wondering if you were open to a date any time.

CompassRose  (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
Sorry, HS.  Not dating at the moment.  Recovering from what happened, really.  Thanks for the sweet offer, though (smile)

DogbertIsMyGod  (The Guy In The Know)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
Watch it, HammerStein.  Annoy Compass Rose too much, and Pathfinder'll put you on the moon to keep Leviathan company.  
(j/k)

PsychoGecko  (Veteran Member) (Power Guru)  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
Haha.  He might, too.

KingdomCome  
Replied on May 19, 2011:  
So did they actually go to the moon, or just send Leviathan there, and stay behind?  Just wondering.

Pathfinder  (Verified Cape) (Protectorate ENE)  
Replied on May 20, 2011:  
We went to the moon.  All the way.  Let me tell you, not a fun trip.  Wasn't much fun coming back, either.  
Of course, we had to drop off our luggage once we got there ...

Bagrat  (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 20, 2011:  
Okay, I'm just gonna say, yeah.  I will shake your hand any time, sir.

MinionNumber21  (Verified PRT Agent) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 20, 2011:  
As for the Crawler rumors, yeah, that was them.  Consider it a dress rehearsal for this one.

Tenebrae  (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied on May 20, 2011:  
Brand new Wards member here.  Just want to say, thank you to Compass Rose and Pathfinder.  For everything.  And glad that you're back.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4

(Showing Page 4 of 4)

VictorCharlie  (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 20, 2011:  
So, what are they gonna do next?  Teleport Nilbog the fuck off of America?  Or just clean up the Boat Graveyard?

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4

 

Danny looked up from his phone and sat there, staring into space.  “Holy shit,” he murmured.  “I could do that.  I really could.”

Just at that moment, the phone rang; the screen showing the PHO boards was replaced by the standard phone screen.  The number was not one that he recognised.

“Uh, hello?” he asked.

 _"Pathfinder?"_ It was a woman's voice.

"Speaking."

_“This is Carol Dallon."_

"Brandish," he acknowledged.  "What can I do for you?"

 _"I need to speak to you about my daughter."_ He could hear the angry overtones in her voice.

"Which one?" he asked mildly.

 _"Victoria, of course!"_  she snapped.  _"Amy is no daughter of mine."_

“And why would that be?” he asked cheerfully.  He had an idea, of course; Amy and Vicky had been quite forthcoming about their desire to move out of home, and why.

Carol sputtered.   _“She's a villain's daughter!  And now she's shown her true colours, using her powers to seduce her sister!”_

“I thought she wasn't your daughter,” Danny interrupted mildly.  “In any case, how do you know that Vicky hasn't fallen in love with Amy the normal way?”

 _“Because Vicky's straight!”_  shouted Carol angrily.

“Victoria's  _sixteen,”_  Danny told Carol patiently.  “Kids of that age barely know their own minds, let alone their own sexuality.  Experimentation is a thing.  Bisexuality is a thing.  She may have gone out with boys because it never occurred for her to ask herself if she was attracted to girls.  Personally, I think they're very sweet together.  Is that what you wanted to ask me?”

 _”No!”_  stormed Carol.   _”I insist that you send her back home immediately!”_

“Just a moment,” Danny noted.  Without even bothering to stand up from the couch, he teleported to the upstairs corridor, and knocked on the door to the spare room.  From within, he heard the sounds of creaking bedsprings and feminine pleasure.  He knocked again.

The sounds ceased, and after a few moments, the door opened.  A sweaty, dishevelled and thoroughly flushed Victoria Dallon peered around the door.  “Uh, Mr Hebert, hi,” she panted.  “Were we disturbing you?”

Danny smiled.  “Not in the slightest.  Your mother's on the phone.  She wants to know why I haven't sent you home yet.”

Vicky rolled her eyes.  “Can I borrow that for a while?”

Danny shrugged.  “Be my guest.”  He handed it over and strolled back down the corridor, hands in his pockets, whistling softly.  Behind him, the door closed.

 

“Mom,” Vicky snapped, putting the phone down beside the bed.  “I want you to listen really carefully.”

Giggling, Amy sat up and caressed the penis which she had caused to grow from Vicky's groin, stroking it until it was once more stiff and erect.  Then she lay back, an expression of anticipation on her face.

Vicky poised over her, guiding her penis to Amy's softly moist vaginal entrance.  Amy gasped as she felt it enter her, sliding between her labia, deep into her slippery warmth.  Vicky began to thrust, slowly at first, then harder and harder; Amy clutched at her and cried out in passion.

And Carol Dallon heard every cry, every squeak of the bedsprings, every grunt and thrust.  She listened to her daughters, biological and foster, screwing one another's brains out, and she blasted her own phone to fragments.

 

Going to his bedroom, Danny changed into his Pathfinder costume.  He didn't need Taylor's assistance to travel across the city; he just preferred her to be there.  But he wasn't going to be doing anything big with his powers, so he decided to leave her in school.

Purple-brown smoke billowed, and he was gone.

 

The bus from the city pulled up at the stop, and Brian got off, along with Aisha.  He hefted his bag over his shoulder and stepped out at a good pace; she trotted alongside to keep up.

“Hey, you're all energetic today, big bro,” she teased him.  “Looking forward to seeing Taylor and dat ass again, huh?”

He eyed her with mild irritation.  She grinned impudently back at him; she was different since Leviathan, since Danny had started to impose discipline on her life.  These days she wore less revealing clothing, and pushed boundaries less.  But she still loved to niggle him, and knew exactly where to put the screws in.

Besides, he couldn't deny it; he did want to see Taylor.  The way she moved, the way she smiled.  Her movements were graceful, her body firm and inviting.  The fact that she was having regular sex with Danny didn't detract from this feeling; in a way, it heightened his attraction to her.

“Watch it, pest,” he told her, “or I'll tell Danny you're being an annoyance.”

She gave him the finger.  That was something else that hadn't changed.  “You do and I'll go spend time with Alec,” she retorted.  “I've caught him checking me out from time to time.”

He rolled his eyes.  He was almost certain Alec was having sex with his sister, but there was no sense in pushing either one of them; Alec would deflect and deny, while Aisha would either admit it and dare him to do his worst, or deny it to his face.  So instead he quickened his pace.

“Hey, don't you walk away from me,” she challenged him, and increased her own pace.  He moved it up a notch, and she followed suit.  Before they quite knew it, they were in a race to the house, to see who could get there first.

Aisha was quicker off the mark, but Brian was fitter and had longer legs.  She led for most of the distance, but he was quickly overhauling her by the time the house came into view.  However, her lead was too great, and she slapped her hand on the porch rail about half a second before he would have caught up.  They both slumped to the ground, laughing breathlessly.

“Well,” she told him, “that means I get the first shower, then.”

“Don't use all the hot water,” he warned her.

“Will if I want to,” she retorted impudently.  “Key to get in?”

He stayed seated on the bottom step, the one he and Vicky had repaired after she broke it while moving in.  Digging the key from his pocket, he handed it to her and leaned aside so that she could climb the steps to the front door.

She opened the door and entered, leaving it ajar, the key in the lock.  He remained where he was, relaxing and allowing himself to cool down.

 _Aisha and I haven't clowned around like that in years,_  he reflected.   _There's something to be said for going straight._

 

Danny stood beside the closest ship hulls; Leviathan's attack had driven many of them on to the shore, damaging the docksides as they did so.  But docks could be rebuilt. If the ships could be moved …

_Taylor and I moved a ship to drop on Lung._

He teleported to the top of the nearest hull, then looked over the mass of entangled, crushed, rusting metal.  In small purple-brown bursts, he jumped from one hull to the next, looking at the damage, getting a feel for the task.

 _It's possible,_ he told himself.  _It's definitely possible._

 

“Shower's free!”

Brian turned his head.  “Thanks.  Any warm water left?”

“Nope,” she told him.  “All gone.  Used the lot.”  He heard her flop on to one of the sofas, and the TV came on.

“Would not be surprised,” he muttered, climbing to his feet.  He pulled the key from the door and closed it behind him.

 

Taylor got off the bus and started trudging home.

She didn't know it, but she had missed seeing Brian and Aisha by just minutes.  Their impromptu race had opened the lead a little; just long enough, in fact, for Aisha to finish in the shower.  Thus, she didn't quite see it when Brian got up off the step and went inside.

 _It would have been nice to get Dad to teleport me home._   But her link with Danny told her that he was up at the Boat Graveyard, and he was concentrating on a problem, so she decided to let him be.

She let herself into the house, kicking off her shoes in the front hall.  Entering the living room, she nodded to Aisha, who was curled up on one of the sofas, watching TV.

 

“Hey,” Aisha responded.  “How's school?”

Taylor shrugged.  “Not too much water damage.  You'd barely know Leviathan had been here at all.  How's the PRT building?”

Aisha made a rude noise with her lips.  “Poking, prodding, power tests.  And they're gonna enrol me in school too.”

Taylor grinned.  “All part of the rounded education.  Just gonna take a shower.”

Aisha shrugged.  “Be my guest.”  Taylor's footsteps were halfway up the stairs before Aisha recalled that Brian was already in the shower.

_Should I tell her?_

A wicked grin creased her lips.

_Nah._

 

Taylor grabbed clothes from her room, and headed for the bathroom.  She opened the door just as the shower came on.

_Whoops._

Her first instinct was to back out, apologising.  Then her second thoughts kicked in.   _Who is it, anyway?_   There were only so many options.

Danny was still at the Boat Graveyard.

Aisha was downstairs.

_Vicky and Amy?  On their bed, in the spare room._

_Brian?_

The image that she got was … compelling.  A Greek god, rendered in anthracite.  Complete in every detail, with a penis that … _oh my god_.  He had his hand on it, stroking it.  Her eyes watered, just thinking about it.

Desire flushed through her body.  Had she been a blushing virgin, had she not spent many sweaty nights making vigorous love to her own father, she may have hesitated.  But she did not.  _I know what I want.  And I want **that.**_

Dropping her clean clothes on to the washstand, she began peeling out of her own clothes.

 

The shower/tub setup had a sliding translucent shower screen.  Brian wasn't really aware that anyone was in the bathroom with him; he'd been aware that the door had opened and closed, but had not thought much of it.   _House with one bathroom, that'll happen._

The hot water – Aisha had left him some, after all – washed over his skin, taking away the sweat and grime of the day.  It felt comfortable.  It felt good.  And something else felt good too; not for the first time, he was fantasising about Taylor, about her body, and his cock was getting hard.

 _Well, this is as good a place as any to jack off._   Closing his hand around his shaft, he began to work it back and forth, closing his eyes to summon an image of Taylor in all her glory, naked but for drifting wisps of fog.

His first indication that something was untoward came when the shower screen slid aside.  His eyes flew open, and then Taylor stepped into the tub with him.

“Well, hi there,” she murmured, her slender fingers joining his hand on the thick erection jutting from his loins.  “You look like you could do with … a hand.”

He grunted with surprise.  “God – Taylor – you shouldn't -”

“Shouldn't what?” she purred, rubbing her body – now wet with by the shower spray – over his, her firm breasts pressing against him, her erect nipples dragging against his skin.  Her free hand caressed his back, squeezed his muscular ass.  “Shouldn't be in here?  Shouldn't be touching you?  Shouldn't be sucking your cock?”

With her last words, she sank to her knees, and brought the head of his penis to her lips.  Brian stared down at the unbearably erotic sight of her wet hair clinging to her rounded breasts, as she let out the tip of her tongue to taste his precum.  She grinned wickedly up at him.  “Just say the word, and I'll stop.”

He did not say a single word.

Slowly, she opened her mouth and engulfed his thickness, the rampant hardness that was his manhood.  He groaned hollowly as he felt her lips sliding down his shaft, his cock pressing farther and farther into her mouth, into her throat.  She swallowed convulsively as she sucked on him, the muscular contractions heightening his pleasure.

He leaned back against the wall of the cubicle, one hand on her head, the other clinging to the shower fixture, as his cock was sucked so very thoroughly.  No other girl he had been with had been able to take his entire length in her mouth; Taylor was doing so.  Only when her chin was in contact with his heavy, dangling scrotum did she stop her forward advance.

His brain was sparking off with so much pleasure that he didn't know if he was upright, lying down, or last Tuesday.  All he knew was that Taylor's mouth was doing things to his cock that should have been illegal, or at least heavily taxed.

When he came, the sheer blinding ecstasy rolled his eyes back in his head and caused his knees to buckle altogether.  He lost his grip on the shower fixture, and he slumped to the floor of the tub, while his hips bucked and a line of fire down his cock blasted wad after wad of thick jism deep into Taylor Hebert's throat.

By the time he opened his eyes again, she was grinning at him from a distance of six inches.  She kissed him; he responded avidly, feeling her crawl on top of him, rubbing her breasts on his chest once more.

“Like that, did you?” she murmured, tracing her nails down his chest.

“Oh god, yes,” he groaned.  “How did you learn how to do all that?”

She nibbled his ear, causing him to arch his back.  “Lots and lots of practice,” she giggled.  “Now, I think it's your turn.”  She climbed off of him, and sat up on the edge of the tub.  Spreading her legs, she gave him his first good look at her sex.

She was clean shaven, and her labia were softly pink and delicate-looking.  Reaching down, she used two fingers to lewdly spread the outer labia, and revealed all to his hungry gaze.  His cock jumped, hardening again already.  It wanted to be inside her as much as he did.

Sitting up, he lifted her from her perch, bringing her a standing position before him.  She lifted one leg and curled it around his neck as he brought his face up to her sweetly-smelling centre.

 

Taylor gasped as his tongue began its first exploratory forays into her delicate womanhood.  He definitely knew his way around the district; she moaned as he flicked delicately at her clitoris, and arched her back when his finger slid into her tight pussy opening.

He ate her out, lifting her on a steadily increasing bubble of pleasure, driving her higher and higher toward her goal.  His lips, tongue, teeth, all played a part; her panting came harder, deeper, harsher, as he pleasured her relentlessly.  She braced herself with one hand on his head, the other squeezing and pinching her breasts, her nipples.

When she came, it was only his arm around her legs that kept her upright; she convulsed, arching her back, crying out as she climaxed again and again, his busy mouth on her pulsating vagina keeping her going, over and over again.

She was weak and shaking by the time he finally let her come down from that high plateau of orgasmic pleasure; she collapsed to her knees beside him, and held him close.  “Oh god,” she murmured.  “Oh god.  That was … insane.”  The only man who had done it better was Danny, and that only because of their link.

As in a dream, she felt him standing, lifting her with him.  Pressing her back against the cubicle wall, kissing her, caressing her body.

She did not resist; in point of fact, she actively responded.  When he lifted her from her feet, she opened her thighs, wrapping them around his waist.  She felt his thick penis pressing against her vulva, seeking her soft, yielding entrance, her wet and willing vaginal passage.

She had begun this as the aggressor, but he had taken the initiative now, he was calling the shots.  She kissed him as the head of his cock pressed into her, slid between her labia.  Penetrated her.  She arched her back and moaned as she felt his thickness opening her up, stretching her tight young vaginal passage, driving deep into her, filling her so deeply.

She clung to him as he began to thrust into her; her nails dug into his back.  His thrusting started slow, gentle, loving, but the tempo soon changed.  Deeper and harder the strokes came, ramming steadily into her, over and over.  He panted as he worked his hips, his thick cock driving up into her hot wet slippery depths.

 

When she bit him on the neck, he arched his back and redoubled his tempo.  She was so tight, so hot, so wet, so abandoned.  Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck.  She responded to every thrust with a cry of passion, with kisses and bites that inflamed his arousal even more.

He had never, not ever, had sex this good before.  She bucked into his strokes, so that he felt that he was penetrating to her very core, her hot wetness swallowing his cock, affording him the utmost of pleasure.  He grunted as he thrust into her, feeling his climax coming up.

She came first, crying out, clenching around him, arching her back.  And then again, and again.  Her vaginal canal clutched at him, making his eyes cross with the sensation.

And then, finally, he came.

It was a near-apocalyptic event; he felt that the world was coming apart around him.  He rammed his cock as far up into her as possible, and unleashed jet after jet of cum inside her.  She cried out again and again as he came, filling her with his hot seed.  And he kept fucking her, kept thrusting into her, until every last drop of semen was inside her, and his cock was starting to soften.

They subsided to their knees on the floor of the tub; slowly, almost erotically, his length slid out of her.  She smiled at him, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“That was amazing, Brian,” she murmured.

He shook his head.  “I can't believe we just did that,” he replied.  “I really can't.”

She giggled.  “I can.  And it was wonderful.  If you ever want to sneak into the bathroom while I'm having a shower … “

He didn't need for her to finish the sentence.  “What about your dad?”

She shrugged.  “Oh, he's cool with it.”  Another giggle.  “Just make sure he's not in here with me first.”  A pause, as she tilted her head.  “Hm.  Maybe he might be up for a threesome.  Or a foursome, with Miss Militia.  If you were interested, of course.”

“Miss Militia?”  He gulped.  “That could be … interesting.”

Her lips curved in a razor-edged smile.  “That's one way to put it.”  She stood up.  “Wow, my knees are still wobbly.  But the water's starting to run cold.”

Turning off the taps, they got out of the shower cubicle.  After the sex they'd just had, they were able to dry off without doing more than grabbing the occasional feel, but Brian knew that this was not the last time that he would have sex with Taylor Hebert.


	29. Urban Renewal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny gets his wish, and there is character interaction, both at home and at school.

“I really think it could work.” Danny waved his fork, heedless of the piece of steak impaled on the tines, as he spoke animatedly. “We just go in as Pathfinder and Compass Rose, and we move the ships to a place where they won't be in the way. Maybe an artificial breakwater, maybe further out to sea. All I'd need is for the Mayor to sign off on it.”  
  
“Now I'd pay money to see  _that,”_  Aisha declared, somehow not letting the act of speaking interfere with her eating. “It'd be like the time you dropped that ship on Lung, and saved big bro.” She grinned. “That woulda been so cool, the look on his face when he saw that fuckin' great ship just falling out of the sky on top of him. BAM!” She smacked her hand down on the table, making everyone jump.  
  
Amy's glass toppled and began to fall, then disappeared in a puff of purple-brown smoke. At the same instant, it reappeared in Danny's hand. A moment later, it moved again, from Danny's hand back to Amy's place at the table. She looked startled; he grinned.  
  
“Aisha, geez, seriously?” Brian shook his head, looking at his sister. “Can we get through just  _one_  meal without everything ending up on the floor?”  
  
Aisha rolled her eyes. “Okay, geez, sor _ree.”_  Then she met Danny's eyes, and a lot of the cockiness drained out of her. “Sorry, Mr Hebert,” she mumbled. “Won't do it again.”  
  
Danny nodded to her. “That's all right,” he replied evenly. “Just don't do it again, all right? And if you could mind the swearing, too, please?”  
  
She nodded back. “Sure thing. But it'd be like that, right?”  
  
“Yeah, it'd be like that,” Taylor told her, with a grin at Brian. He returned it, but she was already looking at Danny. “One problem I see, though. Mayor Christner knows how much you want to get the northern docks up and running again, and Pathfinder asking to deal with the Boat Graveyard – or what's left of it, since Leviathan came calling – would raise flags all over the place. How do you do it without outing yourself?”  
  
“She's got a point,” Amy commented from the other end of the table. “Vicky and me, we can push for things in our civilian identities because we've been unmasked since day one. But I've seen first-hand how other capes have to keep their superhero and civilian identities separate; if someone really has it in for you, dropping a clue like this could open a whole can of worms.”  
  
“'S'right,” Vicky mumbled around a mouthful of pasta. She swallowed, and continued. “Sorry. But yeah, Amy's got it right. I met Dean a few times when he was out in civilian identity – Mom being a big-name lawyer and all – and we had to be carefully polite, because everyone knew that Glory Girl was Gallant's girlfriend. So if we, you know, hugged or kissed in public, they'd be all over that.”  
  
Danny frowned. “You're right. Some of those guys would jump on that in a heartbeat.” He looked at the faces around the table. “Okay. We're all superheroes here -”  
  
“ - not one yet,” Aisha interjected cheekily.  
  
“ - or superheroes in training,” Danny continued without missing a beat. “Taylor, you and I are in the Protectorate. Amy, Vicky, you've got experience in being independents. Brian, you've got a few years' experience as a villain. Aisha, you're just plain devious.”  
  
Aisha grinned at him. “Damn right.”  
  
Danny ignored the swearword. “So, between the six of us, if we can't figure out a way to sell this without outing me, I'd be extremely surprised. Suggestions?”  
  
Silence fell, as five agile minds mulled the problem over.  
  
Aisha shrugged. “Just do it. Anyone asks, you say you thought it was a good idea.”  
  
Brian shook his head. “Aisha … “  
  
“No, it's a good start,” Danny told him, then turned to Aisha. “But while I can see why you're suggesting it – it would definitely work as an excuse for  _you,_  after all – it really wouldn't fly for me.”  
  
“I  _could_  talk to Mom,” Victoria proposed. “Assuming that our last argument didn't burn  _all_  our bridges, that is. Maybe she'd have some suggestions.”  
  
“Actually, maybe we should just talk to the Director,” Taylor mused. “After Leviathan, I'm fairly sure she thinks we walk on water.”  
  
“Hm.” Danny thought that over. “You know, maybe that's not a bad idea.”  
  
“Yeah,” Aisha put in. “If Miss Piggy suggests it -” She broke off as Danny glanced sharply at her. “What?”  
  
“Please don't use that nickname for Director Piggot again,” he requested. “It's rude and unpleasant.”  
  
She squirmed in her seat, not enjoying the admonishment. “I didn't make it up,” she mumbled. “Heard a couple of Wards.”  
  
“Hmm.” Danny rubbed his chin. “It's still not a nice thing to say about her. After all, she could have said no when I offered you and Brian a place to live.”  
  
She blinked. “Shit. She could too. Uh, sorry.”  
  
He nodded, accepting the apology. “But you're right. If Director Piggot made the suggestion, phrasing it to 'get rid of that eyesore', then Christner wouldn't have much choice but to let it happen.”  
  
Taylor frowned. “What? Why would he even oppose it?”  
  
“It's not so much the Boat Graveyard, as reopening the ferry,” he explained. “The administration shut it down years ago, when the gangs were really starting to expand into Brockton Bay. They used the excuse that the ferry made it too easy for criminal types, such as drug dealers, to move from one end of the city to the other. Now that situation's settled down, but the money that would be normally used for the ferry is now being used for the pet project of the moment.”  
  
“Wow,” Brian commented. “And I thought being a  _villain_  was evil.”  
  
“I've occasionally wondered why capes don't actually run for office,” Danny noted. “Especially Thinkers.”  
  
“It's the red tape,” Vicky replied wisely. “They'd much rather a problem they can punch, or shoot with a big-ass raygun.”  
  
Amy giggled, Brian and Taylor chuckled, and Aisha laughed out loud. But Danny nodded. “I do believe that you may have the right of it there,” he mused. “Cape powers are designed to solve problems _fast._  Tinkers build things in their workshops, by eye, that would take a team of engineers a decade to even come up with a preliminary design for. Thinkers routinely solve problems that would have a think-tank of normals scratching their heads. But run that into the stone wall that is bureaucracy …” He shook his head.  
  
“So you'll talk to her about it?” asked Taylor.  
  
Danny nodded. “Sure thing, kiddo. Tomorrow, I guess. If I approached her tonight, she might get a little annoyed, and it can wait a day.”  
  
“Good idea,” Brian agreed. “Oh, and Aisha, just so you don't disappear at the end of the meal, it's our turn to do the dishes tonight.”  
  
Aisha wrinkled her nose at him. “You suck.”  
  
Taylor grinned and put an arm around her briefly, ignoring her squeak of surprise. “Cheer up. We got raspberry swirl for dessert.”  
  
Aisha's eyes opened wider. “Oh, uh, finished,” she declared. “Can we have dessert now?”  
  
“Not until you actually eat all the food you piled on your plate, earlier,” Danny responded. He'd learned not to use phrases such as 'clear your plate' with her. It generally got cleared into whatever receptacle Aisha felt was most convenient.  
  
Aisha knew not to argue; she applied herself to eating once more, and she didn't say another word until her plate was actually clear. Brian and Taylor shared a grin; it was perhaps fortunate that she didn't catch them at it.  
  


* * *

  
Taylor lay in bed with Danny, one leg thrown over his, her head resting on his chest. She felt his arm, warm and strong around her, and she enjoyed the closeness and intimacy. He did also; they could feel one another's emotions like that, and they fed off, and reinforced, one another.  
  
“So, Brian, huh?” he murmured into the post-coital bliss that had enveloped the both of them.  
  
“Mmm, yeah,” she agreed. “Just walked into the bathroom, and he was jacking off in the shower. And I couldn't let that slide.”  
  
“I know,” he replied, his hand sliding down to cup her firm, rounded buttocks. “I could feel what he was doing to you. You certainly enjoyed it.”  
  
She roused herself to crawl a little farther up his chest, until she could kiss his proffered lips. “I sure as hell did,” she told him, her breasts pressing warmly against his skin. “If I'd met him before I started having sex with you … we may not have needed to get together.”  
  
“Really?” he murmured, his hands becoming more busy on her person. She giggled and began to return the attentions. “So he's all that, huh?”  
  
“Well, not compared to  _you,_  of course,” she conceded, dragging her nails down the length of his hardening shaft. “But he does possess ... oooh … a certain level of native talent.”  
  
She felt herself being rolled on to her back; as the sheet was lifted off of her, she smiled up at him in the near-darkness, opening herself to him, welcoming him. He got on top of her; they embraced and kissed, bodies moving together in that ancient rhythm. She was already wet for him; when his penis pressed against her warm, slippery entrance, he slid into her without demur.  
  
“Nnnngh,” she grunted, feeling his length penetrating to the very hilt within her hot, wet depths. “It's better every time.”  
  
“Always,” he breathed.  
  
He began to move atop her, thrusting slowly at first and then more and more strongly. Under him, she moaned his name, scoring his back with her nails, as her body reacted to his, reacted to what he was doing with her, to her.  
  
Her first orgasm came as a surprise to the both of them, but it was only the first of many.  
  


* * *

  
**The Next Day**  
  
“The Boat Graveyard.”  
  
“Yes, ma'am,” Danny replied. He was in full Pathfinder costume, standing before Director Piggot's desk.  
  
“You want to … clear it.” The Director seemed to be having trouble with the concept.  
  
“I believe I can, ma'am.” He paused. “After all … Lung.”  
  
She fixed him with a firm gaze. “Believe me, I will never, ever forget what you did to Lung. I don't think  _anyone_  will.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Danny agreed. “But I'm not doing it to show off. I want to do it to clean up that area. Show that it can be fixed up, that Lord's Port can be brought back into operation. Reopen the ferry. Bring jobs back into that part of the city. I'm chairman of the Dock Worker's Association, but some days it feels like it's in name only.” He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to let the frustration bleed off. It wasn't the Director's fault, after all.  
  
“I do hear what you're saying, Pathfinder,” the Director noted. “It's a good idea. And the Graveyard is indeed an eyesore on the city.” She tilted her head. “But why do you need me to speak for you in this matter?”  
  
“Because I've been pushing for improvement in that area for years,” Danny told her. “Mainly, getting the ferry back into operation, but as Chairman, to get more work for the Dock Workers. If Lord's Port can be reopened, that will be a step forward. The Docks gets more money coming into it, people move back in, police start actually patrolling, crime rate drops … “  
  
“ … and the PRT's job gets easier, yes, I get it,” the Director noted. “But you don't want to be seen to be suggesting it as Pathfinder, because too many people would connect you to your civilian identity.”  
  
He nodded. “Fortunately, someone's already suggested it on the PHO forums, so you could easily mention it to the Mayor, and put it out there that you're willing to let me give it a try. After all, the whole concept of keeping our joined power level under wraps is blown since Leviathan.”  
  
“That could work,” she decided. “I'll raise it this afternoon. I've got a meeting with Christner then.”  
  
He smiled. “Thank you, Director,” he told her. “I really appreciate this.”  
  
“No, Pathfinder, thank  _you,”_  she replied. “It's rare that I see a cape wanting to use his power to do something as mundane as urban renewal. Normally, it's destructive, rather than fixing something.”  
  
“You have a point,” he admitted. “I guess it might be because I got my powers later than most; teenagers are dangerous enough  _without_  powers.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, god,” she muttered. “You have  _no_  idea.”  
  
He grinned. “Which is why I vastly prefer my job to yours. Even though all of  _my_  charges are well over drinking age, and indeed have the frequent habit of getting into bar fights.”  
  
Try as she might, Piggot could not stop a reluctant grin from crossing her face. “Oh, get out of here,” she snorted.  
  
A nod in her direction, and purple-brown smoke billowed up around him; when it dissipated, he was gone.  
  
 _He's a good man,_  she mused,  _even if he **is**  a cape. He's definitely dedicated to the job, and to Compass Rose. This is the least I can do for him._  
  
Her computer pinged as a message dropped into her inbox. With a suppressed sigh, she turned back to the ever-renewing stack of paperwork, both hardcopy and electronic.  
  
 _Well, when I accepted this job, I knew it wouldn't be for the entertainment value._  
  


* * *

  
“Hey, Taylor, wait up!”  
  
She stopped and turned at Dean's shout. Other heads had turned as his voice echoed up and down the school corridor, but they quickly lost interest.  
  
“What's up?” she asked, as he jogged up to her.  
  
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he panted.  
  
“Just one minute,” she told him. “I've got class to get to.”  
  
“Me too,” he agreed. “It's about Vicky.”  
  
“Oh god,” she realised. “She only just recently broke up with you, didn't she?”  
  
He nodded. “Yeah. Look, I just need to know. It was for Amy, wasn't it? Not someone else?”  
  
She paused, frowning. “Do you …  _want_  … it to be Amy?”  
  
“Look, I don't want it to be  _anyone,”_  he told her, throwing up his arms. “I want us to still be together. But if it  _is_  going to be someone else, I want it to be someone like Amy, who's known Vicky like forever, and who I  _know_  loves her, and who Vicky loves back. Not someone who came along five minutes ago.”  
  
Taylor nodded. “I get your reasoning. And yes, it's Amy. She and Vicky … they're pretty happy.”  
  
“Oh.” His gaze dropped. “Good. I mean, not  _great._  But … good. I guess.”  
  
Taylor put her hand on his arm. “Look,” she told him softly. “You don't have to push yourself to be happy for them.”  
  
He blinked. “What? But -”  
  
“Expecting you to be happy about this sort of thing is silly,” she pointed out. “It's a big wrench for you. So feel free to be unhappy, disappointed, all that. But they didn't mean to hurt you, so don't go taking it out on them, okay?”  
  
He nodded. “Yeah. I get it. And thanks.”  
  
She smiled. “You're welcome. I know what it's like to lose a friendship.”  
  
“I guess you do.” He paused. “Hey, how would you like to come out for pizza or something, sometime?”  
  
“I … what?” She blinked, startled. “Like … a date?”  
  
“Heh, no. I know you're spoken for.” He smiled. “Bring someone. I will, too. We can just hang, and eat pizza. Be friends.”  
  
Slowly, she nodded. “I think … I'd like that.” Her smile answered his. “Okay, we'll do it. But right now, I gotta get to class.”  
  
She hurried off; he watched her go.  _Thanks, Taylor, for reminding me that I still have friends._  
  


* * *

  
“When's he getting here?” asked Mayor Christner. He adjusted the hard-hat that he wore; Paul Renick understood that the hat had never seen an actual day of use, but that the Mayor kept it in the back of his closet to wear on occasions such as this. Renick suspected that he actually  _polished_  it.  
  
“I agreed to let this go ahead, and we're all here,” continued Christner. “So where's Pathfinder?” He turned to Renick. “Deputy Director, can't you do something? And why couldn't the Director attend, anyway? She's the one who pushed for this.”  
  
“Director Piggot had other matters that she had to attend to,” Renick replied.  _And she's got better things to do than to stand around in the sun with a bunch of politicians,_ he carefully did not add. _Apparently that's **my**  job._ “And as for Pathfinder ...”  
  
Purple-brown smoke billowed next to them; when it dissipated, the imposing figure of Pathfinder was standing there, hand in hand with Compass Rose. Renick silently blessed every deity he could think of; that appearance had been perfectly timed with his words.  
  
“Mayor Christner,” Pathfinder noted with a nod. “Deputy Director Renick.” He let go Compass Rose's hand, and shook their hands. “Sorry about the delay; there was a house fire.” He did not elaborate, but Renick was sure he'd see it on the news later. Renick noted that he had the chin-piece of his helmet attached; this gave his voice a slightly hollow sound.  
  
Now that the guest of honour had arrived, Christner was all smiles. “Well, it's good to see you, sir.” He turned toward the news crews, who had perked up considerably upon the arrival of actual superheroes at the scene of a proposed superhero event. Christner shook Pathfinder's hand again for the cameras, and then shook Compass Rose's as well. He launched into a speech, which Renick tuned out, while managing to look interested for anyone who was actually watching him; it was a talent of his.  
  
While Christner droned on, Renick glanced around surreptitiously. Perhaps fifty or sixty people had turned up to rubberneck; he didn't know how word had gotten around so fast, save by Christner's media corps. There were a few people from the Mayor's office, including the guy in charge of public works; Renick didn't know his name and hadn't been introduced to him. Pathfinder and Compass Rose merely stood there, facing the cameras, once more holding hands.  
  
Renick didn't quite know why they did that all the time; he had an idea that it had to do with the way their powers worked. Or maybe that they really didn't like being out of contact with each other. In any case, it wasn't a problem. And even if it  _was_  a problem, it wasn't  _his_  problem; Emily had made it quite clear that Compass Rose and Pathfinder were a team. If Pathfinder went with the Protectorate, Compass Rose came along. If Compass Rose went with the Wards, Pathfinder came along. End of story.  
  
Not that he had an issue with that; he knew some of the things that the duo had gotten up to, and was not going to argue with how they got things done. Not in the slightest.  
  
Christner eventually ran out of things to say, and turned to the pair of capes. “Well, then,” he declared. “You know where the wrecks are to go?”  
  
Pathfinder nodded. “We've seen the plans, yes.” Compass Rose nodded in agreement.  
  
The Mayor smiled broadly. “Well then, shall we get to it?”  
  
Renick bridled slightly; Christner was trying to give the impression that  _he_  gave orders to the Protectorate. But then Pathfinder looked his way. “Deputy Director. Do I have your permission to proceed?”  
  
Hiding a smile, Renick nodded. “Yes, you do. Proceed.”  _And nicely done._  
  
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and then they were gone. They reappeared on top of one of the ships. There was a pause, and then the entire  _ship_  was enveloped in the cloud of smoke. Out to sea, on the line of the proposed artificial reef, there was a tremendous splash.  
  
And then another ship disappeared. And another.  
  
As the first of the choppy waves began to break on shore, symptomatic of the tonnages of metal being dropped into the ocean, Deputy Director Paul Renick let himself smile for the cameras.  
  
 _Oh, yeah. **That's**  how we do it._


	30. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home life at the Heberts'. Taylor and Brian get it on, then Taylor asks Brian for a date. Taylor gets it on with Danny, then they discover Amy and Vicky getting it on in the kitchen. Taylor has an encounter with Madison at school, then there's an emergency call-in to the Wards.

Morning, Danny reflected, was hectic enough without having four extra teenagers living under one's roof. Jockeying for a chance to have a shower before school – or going on duty with the Wards, in Brian's case – had been subtle but intense. Fortunately, Taylor had taken up running every morning, and Amy and Brian were running with her; this gave Danny, Vicky and Aisha a chance to get showered before they returned.  
  
It was fortunate that the PRT, while unable or unwilling to spring for off-base accommodation, were granting him a stipend toward their room and board. This altered the living arrangements from impossible to merely problematic. However, as soon as Brian turned eighteen – which would, as it happened, occur within a few days of Taylor turning sixteen – he would be able to move out with Aisha, into his own place; this would take a lot of pressure off the situation.  
  
Until then, or until Amy and Vicky found a place to move into, the pressure would remain. On the upside, he had lucked upon a reasonably responsible bunch of teens with whom to share his house.  
  
Brian was as serious as Aisha was rambunctious; while the younger girl tended to act out on occasion, all that her brother needed to bring her into line was a reminder of where she had been, before moving to the Hebert household. She was respectful toward Danny, and he took care to not treat her as a child. While she still forgot not to swear from time to time, he understood that it took time to lose that sort of habit.  
  
Amy and Vicky, on the other hand, were utterly devoted to one another, and worked hard at not being a problem; any chores that they took on were done quickly, quietly and competently. He could not fault them; they kept their room clean, the floors were swept, the dishes done, the laundry washed and hung out, all usually while he was at work.  
  
Aisha and Brian took their turn at chores as well; while Aisha wasn't exactly  _lazy_ , she tended to be slapdash in the way she did it. Danny understood and recognised that she had a short attention span, and generally got her to do those things that didn't take long to do. Brian, on the other hand, got the job done right every time. He even volunteered as cook from time to time.  
  
Of course, in the kitchen, there was usually room for only one cook at a time, so nobody could really help Danny cook breakfast. The exception was Taylor; they never bumped into one another, never got in each others' way. Each of them knew where the other was, at all times, without even thinking about it.  
  
But even when Taylor was on her run, as she was now, he was able to use his powers to speed up the cooking of breakfast. Spatulas and forks came to his hand at a thought; bacon went from packet to hand to pan, and filled plates went from his hand to the table just as fast as they were prepared.  
  
Aisha blinked as a plate of bacon and eggs appeared before her in a puff of purple-brown smoke; an instant later, he had brought a knife and fork from the drawer to his hand, and sent them on to the table on either side of the plate. He was already sorting out the next plate by the time she managed to speak.  
  
“I gotta say, Mr Hebert, even though I've been living here a while, watching you teleport stuff around like that still weirds me out.”  
  
“Why's that, Aisha?” he asked idly, bringing an egg to his hand and cracking it over the pan.  
  
She sliced off a piece of egg white and swallowed it before continuing; while nobody had cracked down on her for talking with her mouth full, she had actually made an effort to fit in, manners-wise. It was still very much a work in progress, but he had to admit that she was doing her best.  
  
“I dunno. I didn't grow up with powers. Nobody I knew had powers, till Brian triggered. I guess I'm used to seeing capes punching each other out on TV, or rogues using powers to make craploads of money.” She gestured toward where he was working at the stove. “I never seen anyone using a power like yours to do something simple like cook breakfast.”  
  
“You never  _saw_  anyone,” he corrected her. “Saw, not seen. But your point is valid. Most parahumans who get powers, they seem to think 'how can I make money' or 'where's the nearest villain, I want to punch him'.”  
  
“What's this about punching villains?” asked Vicky, entering the kitchen while still towelling her hair.  
  
“I was just talking to Mr Hebert about how weird it is to see him using his powers to make breakfast.”  
  
“Well, powers can be good for that sort of thing, or they can be utterly useless,” Vicky noted as she sat down; a moment later, a plate and cutlery appeared in front of her. “Oh, thanks. I grew up in a cape household; sometimes powers came in handy, but most of the time they're just good for smacking bad guys around.”  
  
“And thus, my point,” Danny observed, then paused. “They're on the way back.”  
  
Neither of them chose to comment on that; they knew about his deep and abiding connection to Taylor. Aisha was more than half done as it was; she kept eating while Vicky traded casual small talk with Danny.  
  
Just as Aisha got up to put her plate in the sink, the side gate twanged; a moment later, the back door opened. The other three members of the household trooped in, in various stages of sweaty exhaustion. “I'll go shower, you guys eat,” Taylor told them.  
  
“Works for me,” Brian agreed; he sat down, and Danny 'ported a plate in front of him. Amy stopped beside Vicky's chair to give her sister a hug and a kiss, then stole some bacon from her plate. In the meantime, Taylor stepped up next to Danny; he turned just in time to kiss her, then went back to cooking while she headed upstairs.  
  
“So how was the run?” asked Danny, sliding bacon and egg on to a plate for Amy.  
  
“Pretty good,” Brian reported. “Taylor's doing well, and Amy's coming along nicely.” He got the orange juice pitcher from the fridge and poured juice for himself, Amy and Danny.  
  
“Amy is staggering along at the back of the pack,” Amy retorted, trying and failing to slap Vicky's hand as she stole a piece of bacon in revenge. “But Taylor and Brian seem to think it's a good idea, so I'll keep doing it.”  
  
Finally, Danny sat down at the table with his own breakfast; Taylor's bacon and eggs sat on the stove, the heat turned down so that it did not burn. “It's definitely a good idea,” he agreed. “If you don't have a power that gives you a good chance of evading your enemies, then building up your stamina so that you can run away is always worthwhile.”  
  
Amy poked her fork at Brian. “Mister muscles here doesn't seem to need to worry about either running away  _or_  building up his stamina. Every time we stopped to let me catch my breath, he did push-ups.  _Push-ups!”_ She managed to sound mildly insulted.  
  
Brian shrugged. “I like to stay fit. Sue me.” He grinned broadly at Amy, his teeth very white against his dark skin. “Pretty soon you'll be keeping up, and then we'll start you on the push-ups too.”  
  
"Oh god," Amy groaned, so theatrically that Danny strongly suspected that she was putting it on, "no way. It's not going to happen."  
  
"What's the matter, Ames?" teased Vicky. "Pushups are  _easy."_  
  
"Says the girl who can bench press a Mack truck, and  _fly,"_ retorted Amy.  
  
“Well, I didn't say they were easy for  _you.”_  Vicky grinned as Amy stuck her tongue out at her.  
  
Danny looked up as he noted that Taylor was moving along the corridor to their shared bedroom. “Shower's free.”  
  
Brian looked at Amy. “Want to go next?”  
  
“No, it's good.” She glanced at Vicky. “We're staying to do the dishes, and then Vicky's flying me to school. So you can go now.”  
  
“Okay, thanks.” He scraped up the last of his egg and finished his orange juice. “And thanks for breakfast, Mr Hebert.”  
  
“You're welcome, Brian.” Danny kept eating as Brian put his plate in the sink and left the room. He glanced at Aisha, who was leaning back in her chair, nibbling on the last piece of toast. “So how are things at school these days, anyway?”  
  
“Eh, so-so,” she admitted. “Not great, but not horrible.”  
  
“Not using your powers to duck out on classes?” he prodded gently.  
  
“Uh, no,” she replied; he was pretty sure she was lying.  
  
He sighed. “Aisha. It's  _good_  to be able to go to school. You learn things that you wouldn't have learned, otherwise.”  
  
“I can do that  _outside_  school,” she pointed out.  
  
“Such as?” he asked incautiously.  
  
She ticked off on her fingers. “Where the Merchants keep their stashes. What Director Piggot does in her spare time. Who's fucking who in the Empire Eighty-Eight, and how they like it when I put itching powder in their underwear drawers and smear tabasco sauce on their sex toys.”  
  
Danny willed himself not to react too obviously. Amy and Vicky were staring wide-eyed at Aisha. “You  _did_  that?” asked Vicky, looking very impressed.  
  
“'Course,” Aisha confirmed. “It was easy.”  
  
“And incredibly risky,” Danny replied, working to keep his voice even. “What if they decided to catch you, and set a bomb with an electric eye trigger?”  
  
“Yeah, well, I'm not going back,” Aisha assured him. “I bet Rune's pissed, though.”  
  
“Itching powder?” he asked, thinking he knew what the answer would be.  
  
Grinning, she nodded. “That, and I swiped her stash of boy-on-boy porn magazines. Yum,  _yum.”_  
  


<><>

  
Robe-clad, Taylor peeked out through the barely-open bedroom door as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs. It sounded too heavy for Amy, which meant that it was Brian. She was right; a moment later, he came into view, reaching for the bathroom door.  
  
“Brian!” she called softly, opening the door. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”  
  
“Sure,” he agreed, turning from the bathroom door and approaching her doorway. She opened the door wider and stepped back, gesturing for him to enter.  
  
He did so readily enough; she pushed the door closed, then shoved him against the wall. Pulling him down to her level, she kissed him, hard. He responded; she let her robe fall open. His hands didn't take long to discover that she was naked under it.  
  
“Mmm,” he murmured; Taylor thrust her thigh between his legs, felt him hardening in his shorts. He slid his large hands up to cup her firm, rounded breasts. When he tweaked the nipples, she growled deep in her throat and tugged him back toward the bed.  
  
“I don't know what I've done to deserve this," he murmured between kisses, "but I'm not arguing."  
  
She let the robe slide from her shoulders; naked, she dropped to her knees before him. Under her insistent tugging, his shorts slid down, along with his underwear; his erection sprang out, almost all the way to full thickness and hardness.  
  
"I've been watching that sexy butt of yours all the way through the run," she growled, running her nails up and down his swelling shaft. "And when you were doing your push-ups. You  _know_  that muscles like yours are like catnip for me, don't you?"  
  
He groaned as her lips enveloped his engorged penis; her tongue worked on him like liquid fire. "Oh god," he groaned. "Oh, fuck. That's so good." But he could not rid himself of the nagging thought. "Your father ... "  
  
She slid her lips from his rampant erection. "I love him and I need him," she explained as she stood, then fell back on to her bed. "But right now, I  _want_  you."  
  
Her legs, long and shapely, parted for him. Between them, a magnet for his fevered gaze, her swollen labia parted in turn, showing the inner pinkness, slick with her lubrication, her arousal, her primal lust. "Fuck me," she ordered him, her voice rough with desire. "Fuck me now."  
  
He needed no further encouragement; as he bent down over her, she took hold of his swollen member and guided it into place. Her arousal-slick labia parted at the first thrust of his hips, allowing him to drive his throbbing cock into her tight, hot vaginal canal.  
  
They both cried out as he penetrated her, forcing his rigid erection deep into her slippery wetness. Her legs went around his waist, and her nails dug into his back through his still-sweaty shirt. She inhaled the pungent masculine scent, the odour driving her even more wild with lust, with desire.  
  
He grunted as he pulled out, then thrust harder, burying his driving cock to the very hilt within her secret depths. Under him, she whimpered, clutching him to her, kissing him with a kind of frantic desperation. His heavy scrotum slapped against her upturned ass as he fucked her, driving himself between her reddened labia over and over again, filling her to the brim each time, forcing throaty gasps of pure animal lust from her throat.  
  


<><>

  
She came within a dozen strokes of his entering her; her eyes rolled back in her head, she opened her mouth in a silent scream, and every muscle in her body locked up at once. He kept thrusting, pounding his cock into her; there wasn't anything else he could do.  
  
Her hand was between them now, rubbing frantically at her clit. She bucked under him, cumming again, more vocally this time; she muffled it by biting his shoulder and letting that muffle her scream. Her pussy clenched around his driving length, over and over.  
  
Abruptly, he could take no more; thrusting his cock to the hilt within her, he began to cum. She clung to him as his semen spurted deep inside her, filling her delicate young womb with his seed. His hips kept pumping without his conscious direction, continuing to fuck her with loud slaps of flesh on sweaty flesh; he could feel his cock still pumping jet after jet of hot cum into her belly.  
  
Finally, he finished, subsiding on top of her with a groan of pure satiation. She kissed him, and he rolled off of her, still holding her, still inside her.  
  
But all good things have to come to an end. "Brian," she murmured.  
  
"Mmm?" He didn't move.  
  
"Brian, you need to have a shower."  
  
"Oh. Uh, yeah." He began to get up, felt his still-shrinking penis slide out of her.  
  
"And would you like to go on a date?"  
  
 _That_  got his attention. "A ... date?"  
  
"Yeah," she confirmed, as he pulled his pants up. "A date. Gallant's asked me if I want to come out on a double date. He'll be bringing his date, and I thought I could bring you. If you're interested."  
  
"Uh, I hate to sound like a broken record, but what about your father ... ?"  
  
She rolled off the bed and began to put on her underwear. "Asked him. He said he'd be busy, but that I could ask you, if I wanted." She grinned. "I think he's meeting Hannah for sex."  
  
He frowned. "Hannah ... ?"  
  
"Oh, someone we both know," she replied briskly. "You'll probably meet her sometime. She doesn't get out much, so sometimes Dad gets together with her and screw each others' brains out. Dad and I both like her a lot."  
  
"Oh, wait," he recalled. "Is this Miss Militia?"  
  
"Right, yeah, I told you in the shower." She grimaced. "You never heard the name, I never told you, all right?"  
  
Seriously, he nodded. "Understood. You mentioned the possibility of a foursome ... ?"  
  
"It depends on what she says. I'll get Dad to raise the idea with her." She pulled her t-shirt over her head and kissed him.  
  
Brian had met Miss Militia; for someone who had been doing the hero thing since before he was born, she had some seriously sexy moves. The idea of Danny fucking her in this very same bed, along with Taylor, was almost enough to bring his wilted erection back from the dead.  
  
 _But I have to take a shower, before anyone realises._  
  
“Sure, I'd love to go on a date with you,” he blurted. He kissed her one more time, then ducked out of the bedroom.  
  


<><>

  
She watched him go, then finished dressing.  _That was short, sharp and satisfying._  Not as satisfying as opening her legs for Danny was –  _nothing can top **you**  in bed, Dad – _but definitely nice. Humming to herself, she strolled downstairs.  
  
Danny looked up as she entered. "Your breakfast is on the stove, Taylor," he greeted her. She knew quite well that he knew what she had just done with Brian, and was quietly amused by it.  
  
"Thanks, Dad." She collected the bacon and eggs, and sat down next to him. The juice pitcher materialised in his hand, and he poured her a glass. "Oh, thanks."  
  
"You're welcome." His grin widened, and the sense of amusement deepened.  
  
She looked around, puzzled; Amy and Vicky were now sporting secret smiles of their own, while Aisha was grinning like a loon. "What?"  
  
Danny cleared his throat. "Our bedroom's right over the kitchen. And our bedsprings can be very squeaky."  
  
"What?" An instant later, she got what he meant, and coloured a deep crimson. "Oh god, you all heard?"  
  
Aisha quite literally fell off her chair, cackling loudly. Amy was trying not to laugh, but wasn't being too successful at holding it in; she was getting redder and redder in the face, and letting out a series of high-pitched squeaks. Vicky just whooped with laughter.  
  
“We couldn't  _not_  hear it,” Danny explained. “I was rather surprised that you would be so obvious, but then, neither of us has been down here while we've been using the bed, so we didn't know how noisy it was.”  
  
Aisha climbed back on to her seat, and held out her hand to Vicky. “Pay up,” she demanded.  
  
Taylor, still red, looked from Aisha to Vicky. “What?”  
  
“She bet Vicky that you'd get into Brian's pants before the month was over,” Amy explained, still very red in the face. “I didn't bet. I didn't think it was right.”  
  
“That, and we wouldn't let you bet, in case you rigged the result,” jibed Vicky. She pulled a note out of her wallet and slapped it into Aisha's palm. Aisha folded it and tucked it into her top.  
  
“I wouldn't do anything like that!” protested Amy.  
  
“Not even if there was money involved?” asked Aisha.  
  
Amy hesitated. “Uh -”  
  
“Ah- _ha!”_  Aisha crowed. “Yeah, no betting for Amy.”  
  
Taylor looked at her curiously. “Uh … you're not pissed, or squicked, that I just had sex with your brother?”  
  
Aisha shrugged. “Eh. I don't need any details, but I'm a big girl. I can deal.” She leaned closer and added in a stage whisper, “Besides, I'm getting it on with Regent. What Brian doesn't know won't hurt him.”  
  
“How long before you figure he'll know about it?” asked Danny mildly.  
  
Aisha shrugged, supremely unconcerned. “None of his beeswax. He starts getting upset with me, I'll throw this in his face.”  
  
Danny raised an eyebrow. “You do know that I'm not overly concerned, right?”  
  
Vicky raised her head. “I sort of got that impression, but I can't see why, exactly. It doesn't bother you that Taylor's sleeping with someone else?”  
  
“Having sex with,” he corrected her. “And not really; you see, I know how she feels about me, and about them.” He put his arm around Taylor's shoulders; she leaned close to him. “She loves me, and I love her. It's that simple. There's no room for jealousy, because I don't have to worry that she's leaving me for someone else.”  
  
Taylor tilted her face up to his, and he kissed her; they held each other close until the kiss ended. “And that's what it's all about,” she added, once she got her breath back. Then she got up.  
  
“Where are you going?” Danny asked. “You haven't finished your breakfast.”  
  
“I'll finish it later,” she told him firmly. “After we're done, upstairs.”  
  
“Ah,” he replied. “You girls can finish up here, yes?”  
  
Without waiting for a reply, he grasped Taylor's hand, and they both vanished in a puff of purple-brown smoke.  
  


<><>

  
The bedroom door locked behind them, Taylor stared into Danny's eyes.  
  
“You called him in here, kissed him, then made him fuck you,” he breathed, his eyes hot with desire.  
  
She nodded. “I was naked, except for a robe.”  
  
An instant later, her clothes disappeared from her; they reappeared in his hands, then fell to the floor. A robe appeared in his hands, fell into her arms. She slid her arms into it, stepped up to him, pressed him against the wall, kissed him. Their lips parted, their tongues meshed. His hands slid into the opening of the robe, caressed the planes of her body. She shivered as he cupped her breasts.  
  
Slowly she went to her knees, pulled his pants down, began to suckle on him. He was hard already, his desire for her evident in every movement. She let his length slither down her throat as she pleasured him with her mouth.  
  
“Oh god, Taylor,” he groaned. “My sweet love.”  
  
Her lips, her tongue, her teeth pleasured him, until his brain whited out from the sensations; he felt his loins gathering. She knew what he felt, for she felt it too; she caressed him, licked him, sucked him. Drew him deep into her throat.  
  
He grunted, arched his back, pressed himself into her mouth, as he came. His hips jerked, thrusting, his length all the way into her mouth. She felt his hot semen spurting down her throat into her stomach; swallowing motions helped milk his shaft of all its secretions.  
  
Once he pulled out of her throat, she drew a deep breath, then began to lick his length clean. Then slowly, carefully, she began to undress him, admiring every part of his body.  
  
“We'll be late,” he murmured.  
  
“Not if we teleport,” she breathed in reply.  
  
“It's not a toy,” he reproved her, but there was a grin on his face.  
  
Her hand curled around his member. “Nor is this.”  
  
Stripped of her robe, she climbed on to the bed; he followed. They lay together, kissed, caressed. She used her body wantonly, lewdly, rubbing herself against him, in an effort to rouse his desire once more. It did not take much in the way of effort; he was already feeling the immense desire that she held within her, and this affected him scarcely less than it affected her.  
  
“Why are you so turned on?” he asked as her hand stroked him to hardness.  
  
“All the way on the run, I was watching Brian's ass,” she told him frankly. “And when I got in, all I could smell was his sweat. So I was turned on. And getting his cock inside me again was insane. But it was over too quickly. I didn't come nearly enough times. Not the way you can make me come.”  
  
He kissed her gently, tenderly. “I'll just have to make up the shortfall then, won't I?” he breathed in her ear. His hands on her body were relentless as they were knowledgeable; he knew damn well that Brian wouldn't be able to do half the things to her that they did together now. “I have to say, ever since your breasts finished growing in, I do like them better than the original issue.”  
  
“More to suck on, huh?” she asked, groaning deep in her throat as he did just that. Her back arched as his hand found her delicate sex, and busy fingers began to ply their trade; she began to pant, then let out a soft cry as he tweaked her clitoris.  
  
“How do you want me to fuck you?” he asked, sliding two fingers inside her hot slippery wetness.  
  
“D-d-doggy,” she grunted. “All fours. “T-t-take me haaaaaaa _aaarrrr_ -.”  
  
She broke off, crying out again as his thumb on her clit elicited an orgasm; her body jolted as if beset by electric shocks, as he played her erogenous zones like a maestro. Every flare of pleasure in her body was pleasure for him as well; he could feel the effect of his touch upon her, raising her to heights of pleasure that only a couple such as he and Taylor could reach.  
  
And then he was easing her off the bed, on to the thick, soft mat that he had bought for just this purpose; sex on the floor was fun, until carpet-burn set in. There would be no carpet-burn from  _this_ luxurious, fluffy pile.  
  
On all fours, head hanging down, panting from the arousal, she felt him kneel behind her, hands on her hips. He spread her thighs – no, her buttocks. He was spreading her buttocks. Already, his urgently erect penis was prodding at the entrance to her tightest hole. Her arousal increased, and she pushed back at him, relaxing her sphincter so that he could penetrate her.  
  
They groaned in unison as the head popped inside her, spreading the tight puckered hole, pushing her buttocks apart.  
  
“Taylor … “  
  
“Dad … “  
  
“Taylor … “  
  
“Dad ….”  
  
With each push of his hips, he slid a little farther inside her, sheathing his fleshy weapon between her perfect buttocks. She groaned, arching her back, as the pleasure washed through her; he thrust a little harder as he got the feedback. She could feel his pleasure, and he could feel hers. And when his pleasure was mixed with hers, each of them felt it more and more.  
  
By the time he had her fully penetrated, he was thrusting hard into her, grasping her hips tightly and fucking her tight rear end with glorious abandon. She was bracing herself and pushing back against his thrusts, grunting with the force that his thighs were impacting hers.  
  
Most of the time they made love; soft and gentle and sweet. Long, languorous hours between the sheets, giving and receiving pleasure over and over again. Sometimes they just had quickies, when the moment took them. Like her episode with Brian, these were short and sharp and devastating, and hugely satisfying for each of them. But sometimes, they just fucked. Hard, almost rough on occasion, vaginal or anal; pounding, sweaty, inhibition-free rutting. Amy had re-engineered her pussy and ass so that it could take just this sort of treatment, and they made full use of it. Nor did Taylor have to worry about birth control; Amy had taken care of that little matter as well.  
  
Taylor felt her next orgasm boiling up in her; Danny felt it simultaneously with her, and he quickened his tempo. She arched her back, clenching around him as the climax blasted through her, then another as his hand between her legs rubbed hard on her clit. His cock drove between her well-used buttocks, deep inside the hot liquid depths of her rectum; the friction was  _amazing._ She knew that her ass would be on fire for some little time to come, but it was so very much worth it as a price for this kind of go-to-hell fucking.  
  
He let go her clit; she put one hand back to take over rubbing herself, her breasts bobbing beneath her as he fucked her hard and fast. His hands grasped her hips, pulling her buttocks back on to his thrusting erection over and over again. The squishy thuds of his groin meeting her pelvis, his cock driving home into her tight hot asshole, filled the room, competing with his harsh breathing and her whimpering moans.  
  
The pleasure of fucking like this was undeniable; their desire, their arousal, mounted with each hammering stroke. She tightened her anal sphincter around his long driving erection, heightening the sensations for both of them, making him feel as though his manhood were being squeezed in an exquisitely pleasurable vice.  
  
And then he felt his own orgasm coming on. She knew it as well; as he continued to thrust into her, she pushed back at him harder than ever. Their bodies came together with almost punishing force, over and over. He arched his back and groaned as his climax began.  
  
She felt him drive his cock deep inside her abused rectum; accepted it, welcomed it, accommodated it. Felt his orgasm begin. Came herself, in sympathy, as the first jets of his hot cum spurted deep within her bowels. Took his pleasure for her own, came again and again, as he felt her pleasure driving his own orgasm to new heights. She panted in ragged gasps as the feedback from his initial climax and hers bounced back and forth between them, building on itself, even as he continued to grasp her hips, continued to cum inside her, continued to thrust his rampant erection into her secret depths.  
  
When the storm subsided, they were lying side by side on the thick rug, in spoon fashion; his groin was still snuggled up to her buttocks, and his penis still inside her bottom. His arms were wrapped around her, one hand cupping a breast from sheer familiarity, not from any attempt to arouse.  
  
“Wow, god,” she groaned. “That was … fuck me, that was beyond awesome.”  
  
He shifted; she felt his softening member begin to slide from her well-fucked asshole. “I need to thank Amy, again,” he murmured, his hands beginning to caress her body. “I think that was even better than the last time we did it that way.”  
  
She rolled over in his arms and kissed him; he responded with commendable enthusiasm. “Amy and Vicky offered me a threesome, sometime,” she murmured. “Sort of as a thank you for helping get them together. I'm deciding whether or not to take them up on it.”  
  
He kissed her again. “Well, don't say no on my account,” he advised her. “I'm still enough of a typical guy to think lesbians are hot. Especially after watching you and Hannah screw each others' brains out in fine style.”  
  
“Yeah, but that's the trouble,” she sighed. “I like Hannah, a lot. But I don't think I'm attracted to other girls. It might even be that I'm attracted to her because you're attracted to her.”  
  
“That could be the case,” he admitted. “Although I can't say that I'm attracted to either Chris or Brian, so it might just be that you're attracted to her for yourself.”  
  
'Actually, talking about that,” she ventured. “I told Brian about you and me and Hannah. And I told him that there might just be the possibility of you and me and him as a threesome, or maybe all four of us. I didn't promise anything, just … suggested it. Said I'd talk to you. So … ?”  
  
He tilted his head. “Sharing you with another guy might be weird. But all four of us … hmm. I might talk to Hannah. See if she's interested in getting closer to Brian. But if she says no, it's no.”  
  
“Sure,” she agreed. “I told him it was up to you.” She snuggled closer to him. “Thanks.”  
  
“Hey, it's all right,” he assured her. “How's your ass feeling?”  
  
“Like it just got fucked by a steam train,” she murmured. “A really  _good_  steam train. But I think we might leave the rough anal stuff for a while. It's gonna be sore for a little bit.”  
  
His kiss was gentle, soft and warm on her lips. “Whatever you want, Taylor. Whenever you want it.”  
  
She giggled. “Well, I  _probably_  want to finish breakfast and get ready for school; otherwise I'll be late, teleportation or not.”  
  
He grinned and sat up, cupping her breast as she sat up with him. “Tell 'em you had to save the world. Again.”  
  
A snort of a chuckle as she found her underwear and began to put it on. “That's the excuse I used last week.”  
  
They dressed once more, hindered just a little by the kisses and caresses that they exchanged. Danny noted that Taylor was walking just a little stiffly, but he wisely did not comment. And she knew that he knew, and wasn't commenting, so she stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
When they teleported downstairs once more, Vicky was leaning against the far end of the kitchen table with a strangely abstracted look on her face. Taylor queried Amy's location, and got an image of her kneeling on the kitchen floor, sucking blissfully on her sister's penis. A mental nudge to Danny, and they were back in the bedroom once more; Vicky hadn't even noticed them.  
  
“I think I'll eat breakfast up here,” she announced.  
  
Danny, who knew through her where Amy was in relation to Vicky, nodded. “Probably for the best.” In a moment, Taylor had her plate and cutlery, and was eating breakfast while seated on the edge of the bed; Danny left the room to go to the bathroom.  
  
“No wonder they don't mind staying back to do the dishes,” Danny observed upon his return.  
  
“And now you know,” Taylor agreed. “Though I'm personally thinking that they might have been turned on by me and you and Brian getting it on.” She paused. “If you want, I can ask if they would like you to join in with that offer they made me, make it a foursome. Amy's gay, but I'm pretty sure that Vicky likes boys too.”  
  
“If you want,” he advised her, sitting down beside her and putting his arms around her. “Only if you want. I mean, yes, Vicky's a very nice girl, but you're the one I'm in love with.”  
  
“Thanks,” she murmured, putting the empty plate aside and snuggling into him. “I appreciate that  _so_  much.”  
  
“Okay,” he decided briskly. “We're either going, or we're staying in bed all day.”  
  
“Tough one,” she decided, then heaved a sigh. “I guess we're going.”  
  
“We're going, then,” he agreed, letting her go. “Should we say goodbye?”  
  
She checked on Amy and Vicky, and discovered that Vicky had Amy braced up against the sink while the blonde hero took her sister vigorously from behind. “Hmm … probably not.” She lingered on the visualisation though; it was kind of hot.  
  
“Right then,” he told her, as he shared in what she had discovered. He found it hot, too. “Let's go.”  
  
Standing up, they clasped hands, and went.  
  


<><>

  
School was a lot easier, Taylor decided, since she had gotten powers. Not as a direct result, of course; while there were probably ways that she could use her location powers to increase her academic standard, they were most likely illegal. Cheating, in other words.  
  
The way that things had become easier was a lot simpler than that. Getting powers had allowed her and Danny to join the Protectorate, and to get the goods on Sophia and her friends. Discovering that Shadow Stalker was one of her bullies had been a shock, but not as much of a shock as it obviously had been to the Director. Sophia's attempt to flee upon discovery had been a godsend; that made for assumption of guilt, and subsequent searching of her locker and her bedroom at home had unearthed a stash of her forbidden sharp arrows. Shadow Stalker had gone down, hard.  
  
Also, not only were Emma and Madison undergoing investigation for the bullying activities – in an attempt to lighten the sentence upon herself, Sophia had spilled the beans on them – but they were also being charged for the attempt to steal Taylor's purse from the restaurant. Danny had informed her with quiet glee that Alan Barnes had been warned off the case by Carol Dallon; if he stepped in, then so would she.  
  
All in all, the prior bullying stance against her had utterly collapsed; people who used to shove her or call names behind her back now almost tiptoed around her. It helped that she had had what they thought to be a growth spurt, adding a couple of inches to her height, and several to her bust, turning her from gawky to graceful. While she was by no means a beautiful swan as yet, she was certainly no longer an ugly duckling.  _Thank you, Amy._  
  
Unfortunately, this did draw a different type of attention, for which she really wasn't prepared. Specifically, boys who were interested in her, and girls who wanted to be her friend. Which begged the question; who among these kids were those who had always wanted to be her friend and had been scared to do so, and who were seeking to curry favour with the new apparent power in her year? She was still coming to terms with her new body image; still unsure about how she felt regarding how others saw it.  
  


<><>

  
She had barely been sitting down for thirty seconds in the cafeteria when a couple of boys, ones she barely knew, approached the table. “Uh, can we sit here?” asked one.  
  
She already knew that several other tables were still unoccupied; she gave them a cool glance. “Why?”  
  
“Uh, so we can eat our lunch?”  
  
 _Yeah, right._ “Sure, sit down. Be my guest.”  
  
They sat, and applied themselves to their lunches. Silently, also eating her lunch, she counted seconds in her head by visualising the cafeteria clock. She had barely got to 'forty' when one of the boys cleared his throat. “”Uh, you're Taylor Hebert, right?”  
  
 _Why, fancy that._  “That's me, yes.” Her tone was carefully neutral. She didn't recall this boy being one of the ones who had followed Emma's lead in taunting her, but that meant nothing.  
  
“I was wondering, there's this party on Saturday night, and maybe you'd like -”  
  
She smiled briefly. “Sorry, but I've got a date already. You know how it goes.”  
  
“Oh, so I might see you there -”  
  
She spoke over him. “No. I don't go to parties. Not since the last one I went to, where every single person turned away and refused to speak to me.” She looked into his eyes. “Have you ever been alone in a crowd? I've been there. It's not fun.”  
  
“Oh, but that won't happen -”  
  
“This time?” She heard the edge in her voice, and wanted to rein herself in, then decided,  _Fuck it.._  “Because I'm not the pariah any more? Not the outcast?” Her voice lowered, so that he had to lean forward. “Understand this; the fact that you, all of you, decided to change your treatment of me just because of something that happened, says far more bad things about you than it does good things about me. Now, I don't  _care_  about your parties. I don't  _care_  about your social scene. I don't care about  _you._  And if you can't eat your lunch quietly, go and find another table. I'm done talking.”  
  
She went back to eating her pita wrap. The boy she had spoken to got up, looking hurt, and moved to another table. His friend didn't go; he stayed, eating quietly. When he finished, he got up, paused, and spoke one word before leaving.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
Taylor didn't reply, didn't respond in any way. She pulled out a book from her bag, opened it, and kept eating. Knowing now that they would be talking about her, but not knowing what they would be saying. Telling herself that she didn't care.  
  
She had finished on the wrap and was starting on the banana when someone sat down opposite her. She raised her eyes from the book with words already forming on her lips.  
  
“I told you I -”  
  
She looked into the face of Madison Clements.  
  


<><>

  
For a long moment, she stared. She was tempted to get up, to just walk away. But then she reminded herself,  _I don't run away from people like this. Not any more._  
  
“I thought the cops were talking to you.”  
  
Madison, for the first time she had ever seen her, looked worn down, a little ragged. She had done her best to maintain the 'cute' look, but the strain was showing. “They are. But I've also got the right to attend school.”  
  
“With me.” Taylor's voice was flat. “Wouldn't they have a restraining order or something on you?”  
  
“Get real.” Madison snorted. “I never used violence. I'm not a threat to you. Mr Barnes pulled Emma out just ahead of a suspension, and Sophia's just … gone. I'm not quite in enough trouble to suspend or expel me, but I'm not quite in the clear. Turns out I've got a metric ton of 'accessory' charges hanging over my head.”  
  
A light clicked on over Taylor's head. “You rolled over on them.”  
  
The slightest of shrugs. “Emma would've done it to me, if she'd thought of it first. Soon as I saw how serious it was, I batted my eyes and started singing like a canary.” She gestured at the cafeteria. “And here I am.”  
  
“So why  _are_  you here, talking to me?” demanded Taylor. “To ask me to plead your case? If you're hoping for that, then you've got a long wait coming. Everything that's coming to you, you deserve.”  
  
Madison snorted again. “Doubt you could do a thing now, anyway. Sophia's obviously talking too, wherever she is. There's enough evidence to nail all three of us to the wall. So you can, you know, gloat a bit if you want.”  
  
Taylor twisted the cap off of her fruit juice and took a drink. Swallowed and put the bottle down. “I don't want to gloat." That wasn't strictly true; there was just a little tiny bit of gloating going on, inside her.  _How the mighty have fallen._  "What I want is to know why you're here, at this table, talking to me. Because I can't think of a valid reason.” She shot Madison a suspicious look. “Unless you're looking to pull one last prank on me, in which case I  _will_  kick your ass across this cafeteria and back. And not a person here will lift a hand to stop me."  
  
She knew that Danny would be feeling the sudden tension, would know that she was concerned. If anything threatened, he should be able to pull her out before anything major happened.  
  
“No, no, no pranks.” Madison leaned forward across the table. “I just wanted to tell you that you're doing it all wrong.”  
  


<><>

  
Taylor blinked, long and slow. “You fucking  _what?”_  
  
“You're doing it wrong,” insisted Madison. “You want to just be left alone, ignored, but not pushed around or bullied, right?”  
  
“I … yes?”  
  
“Well, then.” Madison dusted her hands off. “You're doing it wrong. Snapping at people who want to sit next to you? Giving them no kind of leeway? That's setting the wrong tone.”  
  
“I'm not  _asking_  them to sit next to me,” Taylor replied defensively.  
  
"Not verbally, no," agreed Madison. "Look, you're not great at this whole teenage social scene thing, are you?"  
  
Taylor took another drink of the orange juice, and considered dumping the rest over Madison's head. As tempting as it was, it probably wouldn't help her cause any. "Whatever gave you that idea?" she retorted.  
  
"Oh, just a few hints, here and there." Madison raised her chin. "Whereas, I'm  _good_ at this shit."  
  
"So  _you're_ here to watch me squirm, to gloat, is that it?"  
  
"Hardly." Madison's tone was dismissive. "This is how it's going to happen. I'm going to tell you where you're going wrong. Then you'll reject what I'm saying, tell me to stay the fuck out of your life, and spend the next week avoiding me. I'll watch you flail around for about a week, doing exactly the wrong things and totally failing to get what you want, and maybe  _then_  I'll gloat a little. After that, you'll come back to me and ask me how you should do it. I'll give you pointers, you'll end up where you need to be – that is, the top of the heap, where people will respect you enough to leave you alone when you ask them to – and I'll be right there beside you, back on top where  _I_  belong.”  
  
Taylor glared at her. “Got it all figured out, have you?”  
  
“Pretty well.” Madison tilted her head in self-acknowledgement. “I know this stuff like the back of my hand, after all.”  
  
“So, did you show Emma how to do it?”  
  
“Nah.” Madison shook her head. “She can do that sort of stuff like a duck can swim. I gave Sophia the occasional pointer, sure – she was more about the physical stuff than the mental – but once she got her head around it, she could deal.”  
  
“So why even talk to me, then? Why not rise to the top by yourself?”  
  
Madison smiled at Taylor; a sweet, unaffected smile. It looked so genuine that Taylor was almost taken in. “Because I'm cute, but that's not quite enough to be queen bee all by myself. I need a figurehead, someone for people to focus on, and that's you. You don't want to be the centre of attention, and that's fine. I'll deflect most of it away from you. You just have to  _look_  like you're in charge.”  
  
“And what if I don't want that?” Taylor tried to make her tone challenging.  
  
“Then you ignore what I've got to say.” Madison shrugged lightly. “You keep putting people off, they'll start calling you a snooty bitch, and you'll be alone in a school that either doesn't know about you or doesn't like you. That is, right where you started.”  
  
Taylor tried to muster an answer that didn't sound exactly like 'go fuck yourself'', and couldn't. She took a deep breath, and at that moment, her phone went off. Her  _Wards_  phone. At almost exactly the same time, Danny's emotions spiked a little; she figured that he had gotten a call too.  
  
Pulling the phone out, she pressed the answer icon. “Yeah?” she replied.  
  
“ _Are you alone?”_  It was Aegis.  
  
“Oh, hi, Dad. What's up?”  
  
“ _Got it. Get somewhere out of the way so he can pick you up. Something's going down; we're needed for a briefing.”_  
  
“Oh, you have  _no_  idea how glad I am to hear that.” As she spoke, Taylor rose from her seat and slung her bag over her shoulder.  
  
“ _Problem?”_  
  
“No, something pretty insignificant, all things told.” She looked directly into Madison's eyes as she said that. “See you after school.”  
  
“ _See you soon.”_  
  
Hanging up the phone, she glanced at Madison. “Sorry, gotta run. Just remembered some homework I've got to do before my next class.”  
  
Madison raised her eyebrows. “You can't run away from this.”  
  
Taylor shook her head. “I don't give a  _fuck_  about this.”  
  
Turning, she strode toward the cafeteria exit, vaguely aware of Madison rising to follow her. The doors opened, and she turned right as they closed. No-one was in view.  _Okay, Dad. Now._  
  
A burst of purple-brown smoke, and her father stood before her. She walked straight into his arms; he folded them around her, and the smoke billowed around them once more. In her mind's eye she could see Madison leaving the cafeteria, looking left and right with a puzzled expression.  
  
 _Not my problem right now._  
  
Looking around, they were in the Wards area; Danny pulled her Compass Rose costume from home and placed it in her arms. “See you at the meeting,” he told her. A quick kiss, and he was gone.  
  
As the cloud of smoke faded, she turned to see Aegis; he was mostly costumed up, with just his mask hanging down at the back of his neck.  
  
“What's up?” she asked, setting down the costume and helmet so that she could bundle her hair up at the back of her head.  
  
“Apparently the Empire Eighty-Eight's making a move,” he reported tersely. “More information at the briefing session. Good to see you, Taylor.”  
  
“And you too, Carlos,” she replied, removing her fake glasses before pulling her helmet over her head. It felt like coming home. “Let me costume up, and we'll go see what's going on.”


	31. New Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Taylor and Danny fall afoul of the Empire Eighty-Eight, stringent measures must be taken ...
> 
> Also, angry sex.

The dot of the laser pointer moved over the large wall-map of Brockton Bay. Taylor, along with her father and the other members of the Brockton Bay Protectorate and Wards, listened to the PRT major as he explained the situation.

“- moving into the Docklands now that the ABB has begun to fragment, and also setting up to consolidate their hold on Coil's old territory. Our informants say that -”

“Wait.” Taylor put her hand up.

The major turned to face her. “Yes, Compass Rose?”

“So you're saying that we caused this? We're responsible for the Empire's turf grab now? Because we took out Coil and Lung and Oni Lee?”

There was a minor stir at this. The team-within-a-team composed of Compass Rose and Pathfinder had 'taken out' Lung by dropping a derelict cargo ship on him. Before that, Coil had been taken down with relatively equal ease, although not quite as dramatically. Their crowning achievement to date had been, with the help of Miss Militia, teleporting Leviathan to the Moon. The fact that the Endbringer had since disappeared from the surface of the satellite meant little in the face of the sheer magnitude of the feat.

The major cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I wasn't pointing fingers. This sort of thing happens. The balance gets upset, a new balance gets arrived at.”

Danny sat up a little straighter. “But what you're saying is that the 'new balance' is that the Empire Eighty-Eight, a known white-supremacist gang, will be spreading into more neighbourhoods where they can cause problems for anyone they disapprove of. And they'll have parahuman backing while they do so. And that we're somewhat responsible for them being _able_ to do so.”

The major looked a little hunted. “Uh … yes?”

“Well, fine.” Taylor's father reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a small notepad. “Let's do something about this, then.”

The major frowned. “What are you talking about? Unilateral action has to be approved by the Director -”

“So go ask her.” Danny finished scribbling the note, tore it from the pad and folded it twice. Without needing to be asked, Taylor put her hand in his. _Where's Kaiser?_ she asked herself. Immediately, a picture sprang into her mind of the crime lord himself, speaking to a large group of people. She couldn't see them clearly – the only sharp image in her mind's eye was Kaiser himself – but she imagined that they were Empire Eighty-Eight rank and file. Her power also filled her in on his precise direction and bearing, to the inch.

This information went to Danny just as fast as she could think about it; he nodded and the note vanished in a puff of purple-brown smoke.

“What was that?” demanded the major. “Where did you send it? What did it say?”

Danny raised his head to look at the man. “Just fixing my messes.”

<><>

“- Lung gone, the Asians are on the run,” Kaiser declaimed, his well-modulated speaking voice filling the meeting hall. “Only the Merchants oppose us now, degenerates and lowlives that they are. They cannot stand up to us once we decide to push them from the city once and for all, and make no mistake, we will -”

With a tiny puff of purple-brown smoke, a square of folded paper appeared on the podium before him. With a frown, he picked it up and opened it.

STAND DOWN OR BE STOOD DOWN. YOUR CHOICE.

There was no signature, but he didn't need one; the puff of smoke had told him all that he needed to know. He paused for a long moment, rapidly working through the ramifications of the situation.

_If Pathfinder and Compass Rose are paying attention to what I'm doing, then there's no way to do it without them knowing. And that's a fight I'd rather not walk into blindly._

The crowd of Empire rank and file were starting to fidget slightly; he didn't have to look around to know that to either side of him, the capes that made up the core of his organisation were looking at him curiously.

He cleared his throat. “I've just received some important information. We're going to be putting the expansion on hold for the moment, until we've sorted out a minor problem.”

The reaction from the crowd was just as startled as those from the capes, although the latter hid it better. A few voices were raised, but he held up his hand and they quieted again. “That's all for the moment. We'll call on you when we need you.”

It was a clear dismissal; in ones and twos, and then more and more, they began to leave the hall. Kaiser watched them go; as the last ones left, Kreig came to stand at his side.

“That was … unexpected,” the older man commented dryly. “What happened?”

Silently, Kaiser handed him the note. Kreig read it, his brow furrowing, then looked up at Kaiser. “Where did you get this from?”

“It was teleported right in front of me while I was speaking,” Kaiser said. “Brown and purple smoke. You know what that means.”

“Pathfinder,” Kreig agreed. “Shit.”

“It's abundantly clear that they can locate anyone or anything they want,” Kaiser pointed out. “And that they can teleport people along with them. I, for one, do not want to wake up from a sound sleep in a jail cell.”

“That might be a little blatant for the PRT,” Kreig mused. “Stomping all over us like that comes perilously close to breaking the unwritten rules.”

“Which anyone with enough power does anyway,” Kaiser snapped. “That's why they're unwritten. People only stick to them when it looks like the consequences for breaking them aren't worth the benefits.”

The other capes had approached; Menja stepped forward. “What happened? Why did you stop?”

Behind his metal faceplate, Kaiser grimaced. “I got a warning, from Pathfinder. Stand down or be stood down. That's a direct quote, by the way.”

“What?” Fenja's voice was outraged. “He can't give you orders like that, can he?”

Kaiser took a deep breath. “An order not backed by force is merely a suggestion. This order is most definitely backed by force. If you doubt that, I suggest you brush up on what happened to Lung, to Crawler, to the rest of the Nine. To Leviathan.” He gave her a level stare. “In short? Yes, he _can_ give me orders like that.”

“So that's it?” Hookwolf stomped forward into the circle that was forming. “You're just going to roll over and show your belly to the Protectorate? To the superheroes? Because that's not the Kaiser _I_ know.”

“Of _course_ not,” Kaiser said impatiently. “But it's stupid to defy someone who can trump your every move, who can find you wherever you go. So we hold off on all provocative action until we can do what any reasonable man does when faced with such an insurmountable obstacle.”

Kreig smiled slowly. “Remove it.”

Kaiser nodded in reply. “By any means necessary.”

<><>

“Seriously. Pathfinder. No.” Emily Piggot resisted the impulse to try to tear her own hair out. It wasn't hard; the impulse to try to throttle the cape in front of her was somewhat stronger, and she was managing to hold that one in check. So far. “What were you _thinking?”_

“That unless I did something, and fast, the Empire Eighty-Eight would have caused a lot of trouble, maybe even killed people. So I nipped it in the bud.”

Pathfinder's voice was calm and reasonable, almost as if what he was saying made sense. Which it did, to a certain point. That point being where he threatened the head of a major parahuman gang. Piggot wanted to swear. _He still doesn't know what he's done._

“Are you aware that you may have caused a whole new series of problems for us?” She was quite proud of the way she didn't scream the words at him.

The helmet hid most of his face, but his puzzled tone came through quite clearly. “Ma'am, I thought I _solved_ the problem.”

 _Stress: the feeling you get when you have to refrain from throttling some idiot who desperately deserves it._ Piggot knew exactly how that felt. “Pathfinder. You may have stopped the Empire Eighty-Eight from acting _now,_ but Kaiser is a proud man and a powerful one. He is also known to be vindictive from time to time. He will almost certainly not forget this. Nor will he wait tamely for the next time you are 'forced' to deliver another threatening note. If I know the man – and I've been studying his dossier on a monthly basis since I started as Director – he will be making plans and taking steps of his own. Plans and steps which will not go well for you or your daughter.”

“Wait, you mean he'd come after us?” That was Compass Rose; she had to admit, the girl was quick on the uptake. “Don't the unwritten rules -” _Well, **mostly** quick on the uptake._

Emily made a slashing motion with her hand. “Stop right there. Whatever the Wards have been telling you, the 'unwritten rules' are more unwritten than rules. They're a loose set of agreements that are only honoured when it's obvious that to break them will cause trouble for the person doing the breaking. In any case, they don't apply here, unless he attacks you at home.”

“So this is something we need to be worried about.” _Finally,_ Pathfinder was getting it.

“ _Yes_. This is something we need to be worried about.” Emily hardly had to use any sarcasm; she could see that he got it.

“So what do we do?” Compass Rose sounded concerned. _Good. She's seeing sense._ “Maybe we should hit the Empire first? Like we did with the Nine?” _Whoops, spoke too soon._

Director Piggot sighed, and tried hard not to roll her eyes. It wasn't easy. “Okay. To start with, we _can't_ use the same level of force on the Empire that we could on the Nine. They all had kill orders. Kaiser's gang doesn't. Second, if we started targeting them pre-emptively, word would almost certainly get out in the villain community. This _would_ almost certainly be seen as a breakage of the unwritten rules – that is, targeting a gang to take them totally out of the picture – and might just trigger retaliation from all the other gangs. How do you feel about all-out war in this city?”

“Okay.” That was Pathfinder. “What _do_ we do?”

“Nothing.” Emily's voice was definite. “You do absolutely nothing. Take a leave of absence from the team. Go home. Be normal people for a while. Don't do any teleporting in public.”

Pathfinder seemed to consider that. “What do you think Kaiser is likely to do?”

“I'm going to be frank here. You _can not act_ on what I'm going to say, given that it's my personal opinion.” Piggot waited until both of them nodded. “He'd probably target you, Pathfinder, given that you're the Mover. Afterward, Compass Rose may be targeted or left alone. But he won't do it as a frontal assault, he won't do it blatantly and whatever attempt is made won't have any sort of direct connection with the Empire Eighty-Eight. Because he's a proud man but not a stupid one.”

“So we just wait till the attempt is made?” Compass Rose's voice was bitter.

“No.” Emily shook her head. “In a few days, I'll start trying to get a message to him. Pass on word that you exceeded your authority in doing that, and that you've been disciplined. That it won't happen again.”

“ _What?”_ Pathfinder's voice was incredulous. “You're going to _apologise_ to him?”

“To head off cape war in my city, or the murder of two of my capes – yes. Most definitely.” Emily's tone was flat. “I won't enjoy it, and he'll almost certainly milk it for all it's worth, but it's the best outcome I can think of. Unless he does something stupid and gets himself captured. But I can't see that happening.”

“We could capture him.” Pathfinder's voice was hopeful. “If he's not there to give the order -”

“- then someone else will. The Empire Eighty-Eight is filled with parahumans who are violent, powerful, unstable or all three. These are people one treats with kid gloves, unless we've got a really good reason to go all-out on them.”

“Or unless we can capture them all so that word never gets out that it was us.” Compass Rose sounded hopeful.

Emily grimaced. “That sounds great, right up until we try to figure out how to do it. No. You have your orders. Go home.”

Pathfinder rose and took his daughter's hand. “Ma'am.”

Emily nodded, but purple-brown smoke billowed before she had halfway completed the motion. When it cleared, her visitors were gone. Closing her eyes, she rubbed them with forefinger and thumb. _One more crisis. Always one more crisis._

<><>

The moment Danny and Taylor appeared in the living room, Danny released her hand. Wrenching his helmet from his head, he threw it at the wall. It bounced back and landed on the floor, rolling to a stop not far from his feet. Taking two steps, he kicked it as hard as he could; it bounced off of the wall again, then ricocheted into the kitchen.

“Wow, Dad.”

Those two words pulled him almost all the way out of his rage. He turned to see Taylor, who had removed her own helmet but was turning it over and over in her hands. “What?”

She shook her head. “I … guess I'm not the only one who thinks we just got railroaded, huh?”

“Railroaded?” He almost growled the word. “We just got _sidelined._ Just because we utilised a non-standard approach. And now she's gonna be _apologising_ to that scumbag Kaiser for giving him fair warning.” He looked at her appealingly. “Do you think I was wrong to do what I did?”

Standing on tiptoe, she gave him a slow, lingering kiss. “Let me show you how wrong I think you were,” she murmured. Her hands trailed down his body, unsnapping catches on the way. She slid to her knees before him, nimble fingers opening his pants as she did so.

He gasped as she extracted his rapidly-hardening manhood, then groaned as her mouth enfolded him. Expertly, she began to suckle on his burgeoning length, drawing him deeper and deeper into her throat. He clutched at her head as she moved her lips up and down his long shaft, deep-throating him in a way that sent explosions of lust throughout his body.

With a thought, he teleported them to the bedroom; with another, they were both naked, save for her only item of underwear. Slowly, she withdrew her mouth from him, letting his very tip slip from between her lips with a teasing little nip. She stood then, undulating in a way calculated to set his blood on fire, and turned so that he got the very best look. The panties she wore were minuscule; they barely covered even the parts they were supposed to cover, a mere wisp of pretended modesty.

“Do you like?” she breathed.

“I like,” he panted. “I so like.”

Giving him a playful grin, she turned and sauntered from the room. “Come and show me how much you like.”

Drawn irresistibly by the enticing rear view, he followed her to what had previously been her bedroom, to find her bending over the bed, looking over her shoulder at him. Her barely-clad buttocks, with the swollen arousal-slick labia within clearly visible through the thin cloth, were out-thrust toward him.

“Please.” Her voice was a husky whisper. “Don't be gentle.”

Hooking two fingers in the delicate cloth, he yanked suddenly, ripping the garment from her. She cried out, then again as he pressed his urgent erection between her soft, delicate pussy lips. Grasping her hips, he thrust into her deeply, enveloping his shaft in her warm wet tightness.

She grunted as he fucked her, bracing herself as his belly slapped against her taut young buttocks, as their incestuous coupling sent sparks of arousal and desire through every nerve ending. Brian had been good, better than good, but there was no way his cock, no matter how thick and long, could compete with Danny's.

He pulled out of her and rolled her over on the bed. She opened her thighs to welcome him, reaching down to guide him home once more. They both gasped as his length slid into her without pause, her ankles locking around his back as he began to fuck her in earnest.

He kissed her each time he penetrated her fully; she gasped, arching her back and clenching around his invading member. Her nails raked his back and she pulled him down on to her, her breasts pressing against his chest.

As aroused as he was, he didn't take long to finish. But even as quickly as that, she came first, almost levitating off of the bed with a scream that he muffled with his own mouth. His driving hips pummelled her delicate tight young pussy with his cock over and over again, pushing her into one orgasm after another. And then he came, hunching his back and ramming himself into her, spurting his hot seed deep inside her womb.

Still entwined, his cock still within her vagina, they rolled to the side and lay there panting, letting the afterglow wash over them. Sweat sheened both their bodies; she licked his shoulder, enjoying the salty taste.

“Mmm,” she giggled. “We need to have angry sex more often. That was epic.”

He kissed her. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“We both did,” she corrected him.  Her lips nuzzled his neck.  "Remember this morning, when I fucked Brian?"

 He raised himself on one elbow. “I think there are people in  _Boston_  who know what you and Brian did this morning.”

Leaning up, she kissed him. “Good. Well, I was wondering if you'd had a chance to speak to Hannah about that foursome.”

“Sorry, not yet.” He grimaced slightly. “Things got a little hectic.  Were you still interested in getting Amy and Vicky into bed?”

“Maybe sometime, sure.” She stretched against him. “But right now, I'm more interested in getting screwed cross-eyed by two strong, virile men at once. Is that too kinky?”

He ran his hand over her body, cupping a breast, then down over her hip. “Not in the slightest.” In fact, thinking about it, he felt himself stir within her. “I'd be glad to show him some pointers.”

“Oh, goodie.” She kissed him again, somewhat more sensuously. “So what are we gonna do? About Piggot and Kaiser and that?”

He kissed her back, then slowly pulled out of her. “Well, first, I'm going to take you into our bedroom, get out the lube, and give you the butt-fucking of a lifetime.”

“Ooooh. I like, I like.”

“And then …” He showed his teeth in what could charitably be called a smile. “We make a plan. We make our preparations. And then we act.”

<><>

**Three Days Later**

“Why, Director, I'm surprised at you.” Kaiser was enjoying himself immensely. “Members of the Protectorate and the Wards acting out of turn? And you're _admitting_ it? Tut tut, Director. For all you know, I could be recording this conversation. Do you have any idea of the damage it could do your cause if this happened to leak out to the media?”

He leaned back in the chair, stifling a groan. Not only was he shafting Piggot in a metaphorical sense, but Rune, naked to the waist, was kneeling between his legs. Teenager she may be, but she was well capable of sucking a man's penis, which she was proving right now. Her mouth was hot and sensual on his upstanding member and he knew he wasn't far from exploding.

“ _That doesn't matter.”_ If Piggot's teeth were not already grinding together hard enough to pulverise diamond, Kaiser was prepared to eat his own metal bodysuit. _“I just need your agreement to not come after Pathfinder and Compass Rose.”_

“But it's not as simple as that, Director,” Kaiser purred. “They threatened me, in front of my people. And not face to face either. A note, delivered by untraceable means. That's more than a little insulting, you have to admit.”

It was amazing, he mused, how little effort it had taken to convince Rune to do this with him. He had, of course, run the sexual gamut with both Fenja and Menja, singly and as a threesome, and he wanted something new. A few hints about 'giving for the cause' had gotten her to his office; subtle hints, caresses and then a kiss had started the ball rolling.

Her breasts bobbed as she fellated him; he had been amazed anew at how pert and taut they were under his hands. He couldn't wait for the next step, to coax her panties off and take her the way a man should. He wondered if she was into anal. _She will be by the time I'm finished with her._

“ _They've been disciplined.”_ Each word was delivered as though they were teeth being pulled. _“It won't happen again. Of that I can assure you.”_

“Oh, I'm not sure if I can trust your assurances,” he replied, caressing Rune's head. “After all, they broke your rules once. How can I be certain they won't go off the reservation again? No, I'm going to have to speak to them face to face. Only then can I be sure that they won't act out of turn.”

“ _Out of the question.”_

“Well, I'm sorry, but our negotiations are going to have to start from that point.” He arched his back as the sensations built up within him. “If you're going to stick on something so simple, I'm afraid we're going to be at an impasse.” With a grunt, he came, feeling hot spurts of cum blast into Rune's busily suckling mouth. He fought to contain his panting; there was no need for Piggot to know what was happening.

“ _Kaiser -”_

“Sorry, no. My patience is at an end. Call me again tomorrow and maybe we can work something out.” He hung up on her, then relaxed to allow Rune to finish swallowing his cum. _That was **fun**._ He would negotiate with Piggot, of course. But the preparations for the assassination of Pathfinder would go ahead anyway.

The man was too dangerous to let live, no matter what 'agreement' he reached with the Director of the PRT. Of course, he would claim innocence and pretend to be shocked. Perhaps she would even believe him. She would certainly be unable to prove otherwise.

Leaning back in the chair, he sighed as he relaxed. With the ABB reduced to non-powered members, many of whom were slipping away even now, the only other gang in the city were the Merchants. If one used the term loosely, that is. He did not see them standing up long before the massed might of the Empire Eighty-Eight.

Standing up from the chair, he drew Rune with him. Leaning down, he kissed her gently. “That was wonderful,” he told her sincerely, caressing her breasts.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I just want to do right by the cause.”

He smiled. “Well, if you want to get freshened up and wash your face, I'll be out here.” His hand slid down around her panty-clad bottom. “We can discuss further options for giving to the cause.”

“All right.” Obediently, she trotted into the tiny bathroom. He felt himself hardening as he watched her go.

Purple-brown smoke billowed from behind him; he reacted instantly, steel spikes shooting up from the floor, impaling the figure within the cloud. It was transfixed a dozen times over; he turned almost lazily, pulling his pants up. “You honestly didn't think I didn't expect you to make a move on me, did you?”

More spikes formed a cage about the impaled figure, on the faint off-chance that Pathfinder was still alive in there. _The blood will be a problem to get out of the carpet._

He was only just beginning to realise that there was no blood, because the clearing smoke was revealing the figure to be a mannequin, when the stun-gun prods dug into his back from behind. Current flowed; he convulsed as he fell to the floor. Dimly, he saw the tall figure of Pathfinder standing over him.

“Yup.”

<><>

Emily Piggot rubbed her eyes. It had been a long day, made longer by the fruitless discussion with Kaiser. The man was playing with her, a situation that made her want to shoot something, but she could not work out any other way within the regulations to get what she needed.

“At least Pathfinder and Compass Rose are doing what _they're_ told,” she murmured. The thought of those two going off on their own was a terrifying one, the scale of the terror depending on how independent they decided to be.

The fact that the Brockton Bay villains were held in check by a delicate balancing act was something that she didn't expect many people to know; for the last ten years, she had orchestrated that act for every day she had been Director. Pathfinder's blatant action had threatened to overturn that balance in one fell swoop. There was nothing, really, stopping the villains from storming the PRT building and massacring everyone they found there. She just had to make _not_ doing it seem more attractive than _doing_ it.

Director Piggot hated capes. She hated villainous capes even more than she hated rogues, and she hated rogues more than she hated heroes. Some heroes were almost likeable, but the fact remained that they were all parahumans, and parahumans were ultimately impossible to police. They couldn't be disarmed and it was her experience that they all had psychological problems.

But the day-to-day problems of managing the group of unstable children with heavy weaponry paled before the issue that she was facing now; Kaiser had a beef with Pathfinder and Compass Rose, the two parahumans who had _put Leviathan on the Moon._ She didn't like them, but she had to respect them for that astounding feat. And to lose them – and the potential life-saving uses of their power – to a gang boss with a vendetta was something she was not prepared to face lightly.

Purple-brown smoke billowed behind her office chair. She looked around, startled, to see Pathfinder and Compass Rose standing there.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. “You're off duty!”

“We put ourselves back on duty,” Pathfinder stated. “How are talks going with Kaiser? Badly?”

“It's too early to say yet -” Piggot hedged.

“Badly,” he confirmed, nodding his head. “Well, it's your lucky day. We're here to fix that particular problem. And some other potential ones.”

She stared at him. “What are you talking about? If you're asking for permission to do something else foolhardy and ill-advised, I'm telling you now -”

Compass Rose cleared her throat. “Director, we're not asking. We're telling. This _is_ going to happen. And guess what; you get to watch.” As she spoke, she shifted her weight; Piggot got the impression that she was being careful about it, as if some part of her was very tender.

Pathfinder reached out and placed his hand on Emily's shoulder. She had time for a startled “Don't you dare -” before purple-brown smoke filled her sight. Slowly, it cleared. Not very much to her surprise, she was no longer in her office. Her chair, however, still supported her weight.

“What the hell?” she muttered. “Where _are_ we?”

Pathfinder reached out and slapped a rusty riveted metal bulkhead. The floor and ceiling were made of the same material. It gave a hollow ringing sound. “You'll see,” he told her.

Along three of the four walls were large cylinders, each marked COMPRESSED AIR. DO NOT PUNCTURE. Set into the one empty wall was a submarine-type door with a wheel in the middle. Turning toward it, he spun the wheel until it clunked to a stop; with a heave, he opened the door. With a slight bow, he gestured for the Director to precede him.

Many things could be said about Emily Piggot; being a coward was not one of them. Ignoring the ache in her calves, she stepped over the threshold and advanced into the room beyond. It was poorly lit, with large fluorescent lamps powered by car batteries, but she could make out details quite well.

Four large chairs dominated the room, each with an occupant. More to the point, the occupants were secured into the chairs with metal clamps; they also had bags over their heads. Opposite the chairs was a large window composed of some thick glass or perspex. Outside …

“Christ,” she muttered. “We're underwater.”

“What?” called out one of the seated men, his voice muffled by the bag. “Who's that?”

That sparked a series of responses from the other men, until Pathfinder shouted, “Shut up!” His voice rang through the metal enclosure; Piggot's ears briefly hurt. The men shut up.

“To be precise, we are half a mile under the Atlantic Ocean,” Pathfinder informed her. “If that window gave way, we would be smashed to a pulp before we ever drowned. So if I have to leave anyone here, you can be sure that they would be hard put to get out alive.”

As he spoke, he walked down the line of men, pulling bags off of heads. One he left on; Piggot saw that there was a drawstring holding it in place. She recognised those who were now free to look around; Uber and L33t, and Accord from Boston. 

“Who's that?” she asked, pointing at the last man; even as she voiced the question, she had a feeling that she knew already. A clatter from behind her alerted her to the fact that Compass Rose had lugged the office chair through the door; with just a little relief, she sank into it.

“Kaiser,” Pathfinder told her, confirming her suspicion. “He gets to keep the bag on, because he has a line-of-sight power. If he can't see us, he can't attack us.”

“Is that you, Pathfinder?” called Kaiser from within the bag. “Isn't this just a little puerile? And Director Piggot; I'm surprised you're condoning this.”

“She's not,” Pathfinder replied before Emily could think of an answer. “She's just along for the ride. A witness, so to speak. I've just brought you all here to say something. Then you can go home again, unscathed.”

“Then would you kindly get on with it?” Accord snapped. “I do not appreciate having my time interrupted like this.”

“I'd apologise for the inconvenience,” Pathfinder addressed them all, “but you're villains. You are, by definition, inconvenient to everyone around you. So I'll make it short. All but one of you are Brockton Bay villains. You will leave the city as soon as you can. Accord, you're based in Boston. Don't ever come to Brockton Bay. I'm declaring this city off-limits to supervillains.” He paused, looking them over. “Does anyone have any trouble understanding that?”

“You can't just unilaterally make us go away,” Kaiser snapped.

“I can and I will,” Pathfinder retorted. “This is your first, last and only warning. If, after forty-eight hours, I find any one of you, or your minions, within the borders of Brockton Bay, I will _disappear_ you. You saw what we did to Leviathan. Do not imagine that I will hesitate to do something similar to any one of you. Now, one last time; does anyone _not_ understand this?”

“I understand completely,” Accord stated. “I had no intention of moving here in any case. Now, return me from where you abducted me.”

“Certainly.” Pathfinder and Compass Rose approached the restrained villain. Purple-brown smoke filled the area; moments later, they stepped out of the cloud. Emily saw that the chair was now empty.

“Did you -” she began.

“He's back in Boston,” Pathfinder assured her. “Safe and sound.”

“Director Piggot!” It was Kaiser again. “I cannot believe that you are condoning this travesty of human rights violations! We are being restrained against our will, here! Without even the benefit of trial, or haebus corpus!”

“Don't push me,” warned Pathfinder.

“So what, you'll throw us into the Birdcage?” sneered Kaiser.

“No.” Pathfinder's voice was cold. “I won't.” There was a chilling silence following that statement, then he went on. “All right then. Uber, L33t. Do you understand the terms as I have given them?”

The Tinker, white-faced and shaking, nodded. His partner regarded Pathfinder for a moment. His voice was deep and resonant as he replied. “I'll speak for us both. Yes.”

“Good.” Pathfinder took each of them by the shoulder; Compass Rose stood next to him, her hands over his. Piggot watched them disappear and then reappear almost on the instant. _They're getting better at this._

Then Pathfinder addressed Kaiser. “One more time. Do you agree with the terms as given – that is, be out of town in forty-eight hours? If you refuse to answer, I'm going to assume that you mean to kill us. Which means I'll be perfectly justified in leaving you here to meet your end with nobody the wiser except a bunch of people who have no idea where to find you, and remarkably little motive to do so.”

Kaiser was silent for a long moment. “You wouldn't.”

“I would.”

“It would mean cape war. You will be targeted when everyone else realises that I've disappeared. Brockton Bay would be a war zone.”

“I can always bring more people down here,” Pathfinder pointed out. “I don't have to take them back.”

“The Empire Eighty-Eight would seek revenge. They would realise that you're the one who took me.”

“You aren't _listening!”_ shouted Pathfinder. “I _do not care_ about the welfare of villains! You've got the population scared into compliance! Well, enough! It's time for _you_ to be scared! There are many, many places in the world where I can go, but nobody can return from!”

When Kaiser spoke next, his voice was once more smooth, his manner calculating. “Director Piggot, are you honestly going to stand here and let this man threaten me?”

“Gotta love it when a villain hides behind the law,” remarked Compass Rose before the Director could respond. She turned to Pathfinder. “He's not gonna give in.”

He nodded. “Looks like it.”

Piggot looked from one to the other. “You aren't going to -”

“We're going to do _nothing_ to him,” Pathfinder told her. “He hasn't given you anything, has he?”

Mutely, she shook her head.

“That's because he thinks he can win.” Pathfinder looked at the villain. “He thinks he'll get loose and have his chance at revenge.”

“You can't leave me here.” Amazingly, the villain's voice was still smooth, assured. “It's murder.”

Pathfinder took Compass Rose's hand. His other hand rested on Director Piggot's shoulder. “The other guys knew when to quit. You don't.”

Purple-brown smoke billowed, and Piggot was sitting in her office once more. She looked around at Pathfinder. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Check back occasionally over the next day or so,” he told her. “If he's willing to play ball, he gets to come home. Otherwise … nope. I don't intend to let anyone target Taylor. _Ever.”_

“So what about me?” the Director asked.

The two looked at one another, then back at her. She got the impression that a great deal of silent communication had passed between them. “What about you?” asked Pathfinder.

“I'm a witness to what you just did. Intimidation, perhaps extortion. Maybe murder, if you leave Kaiser down there. Are you going to disappear me as well?”

“Don't see why I should,” Pathfinder decided. “Sure, you could tell people. But that's more likely to start that cape war you're so scared of. In fact, it's in your best interests to squash the story every time it crops up.”

She grimaced. He was right; she hated to admit it, but he was indeed right. And although he hadn't actually mentioned it, they both knew that he had just made her life easier by about a factor of ten. “Fine then,” she snapped. “I'll keep your dirty little secret.” She stood and faced him. “But the both of you are fired from the Protectorate as of right now. I can't have loose cannons working for us.”

He didn't seem overly fazed. “We can call it 'leave of absence' or something for the papers,” he agreed. “Don't worry, we aren't about to go villain.”

“Wasn't that what you just did?” she asked tartly. “You just broke the law in a dozen ways.”

He grinned at her. “Well, not _publicly,”_ he amended. He took Compass Rose's hand and they disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Director Piggot was left staring as it dissipated. _Christ,_ she thought. _What do I do **now**?_

<><>

Five minutes later, Rune ventured from the small bathroom, entirely naked. She knew that Kaiser wanted to have sex with her, and she was slightly frightened, but determined not to show it. While she wasn't a virgin, the penises of the men – boys, rather – who had been with her had been much smaller than his.

_I have to give what I can for the cause._

“I'm ready for you,” she called softly. _Will he want to put it in my pussy or my butt?_

Puzzled, she looked around the empty office. _Where is he?_

At first, she thought he must have stepped out, so she arranged herself in a seductive pose on the office sofa. After ten minutes, that got boring, and she was a little chilly, so she put her clothes back on. Half an hour later, she decided that he wasn't coming back, so she went home.

She never did tell anyone about the episode in the office.

<><>

**Twenty-Four Hours Later**

_"Do you understand the terms as I have outlined them?"_

Kreig nodded, looking at the screen with its attached camera.  "I understand totally, and I agree with them.  The Empire Eighty-Eight will give you no further trouble."

Two chairs down, Kaiser struggled against his bonds and screamed invective.  His bag only slightly muffled his voice as he did so.  "Kreig, get me out of here!  That's an order!"

Kreig turned his head to look at where Kaiser was sitting.  "I would if I could, but when it comes to a choice between you and my survival, I pick myself.  Sorry."

Purple-brown smoke billowed behind him, and he was teleported away.

<><>

Twenty-four hours after that, under the leadership of Kreig, the Empire Eighty-Eight quietly left town. They were the last to go. The mysterious disappearance of Kaiser and, in an unrelated matter, Max Anders, was never solved.

Or at least, those who knew the truth never spoke out about it.


	32. Shell Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny and Taylor decide to find the perfect hiding place.

**Armsmaster's Workshop**  
  
 **PRT Building ENE**  
  
 **1350 Hours EDT**  
  
 **Wednesday, June 1, 2011**  
  
“ _Colin.”_  
  
Armsmaster ignored the interruption, his eyes fixed to the eyepieces of the viewer while he carefully eased an almost microscopic component into place on the latest iteration of his Halberd.  
  
“ _Colin. Your phone is ringing.”_  
  
Such was his focus that he managed to block out Dragon's voice as readily as he blocked out the repeated tones of the phone at his elbow.  _Just a little more …_  
  
“ _Colin!”_  
  
Finally, it clicked into its designated socket. He eased the waldo away and pressed the button to change out controls. The micro-welder flared to life and affixed the component in place …  
  
As soon as he shut down the welder, something cold and hard closed on his left earlobe, pinching sharply. He jerked his head back, reflexively going hands-off on the controls before they could do something drastic to his current project.  
  
“Ow!” Rubbing his ear, which had been released as soon as he moved, he glared at the errant waldo which was even now folding back into place on its stand. “Dragon, was that you?”  
  
“ _Yes, you idiot. You've been ignoring your phone for the last ten minutes.”_ The image on the screen had an expression of exasperation that matched her tone perfectly.  _“Answer it before I do it for you.”_  
  
With a start, he realised that she was correct. Snatching up the phone, he blurted out, “Armsmaster.”  
  
“ _About damn time, Mr Wallis.”_ Director Piggot's growl sounded particularly irritated this morning. Which wasn't altogether surprising; she hadn't been too happy over the last few days. He had no idea why, but he was just glad that he wasn't on her bad side. Or rather, that he hadn't been on her bad side up until now.  _“Your performance review is due today.”_  
  
Colin grimaced, closing his eyes in a futile attempt to shut out the harsh reality which had just intruded on his world.  _What, today?_ “Didn't we have one just a few months ago?”  
  
“ _Yes, we did. And another one's due today. You have a habit of ducking out of these things, so I chose to contact you directly instead of leaving you a message. Report to my office.”_  The tone of her voice left him in no illusion as to her state of mind. While he wasn't great at dealing with people, he knew 'pissed off' when he heard it.  
  
He took a deep breath, trying to salvage something from the situation. “Can we … reschedule it?”  
  
“ _Certainly. You'll just be stepping down as team leader until you take it.”_ Her voice was hard and unyielding.  _“We have much to go through. It's best to get it over with today. I've blocked out half an hour in case we go longer than I've projected.”_  
  
To his internal horror, he actually considered that for a second. To step down as team leader meant that he'd have more time to Tinker, and he could possibly put off any more performance reviews for the foreseeable fu …  _No, dammit. This isn't gonna beat me. I'm better than that. I don't care how much this sucks, I have to beat it. Leave the Director in no doubt that I'm the only choice for team leader._  “ … all right. I'll be up in five minutes.”  
  
“ _You've got three.”_ She cut the call off before he could protest. He stared at the phone, then slowly placed it back on the bench. Whatever was irritating the Director, it was now affecting him directly. He couldn't put matters off any longer, not without risking that she would actually go through with her threat. With his luck, Dauntless would end up as team leader, and there was no way in  _hell_  he was going to be accepting orders from that … that  _upstart._  
  
 _If I hadn't answered my phone, she might just have done that anyway. At least now I've got the chance to head it off._  He drew a deep breath, realising just how much he owed his fellow Tinker right now; the stinging in his pinched ear notwithstanding. “Thanks, Dragon,” he said with a grimace. “I owe you one.”  
  
“ _You were in the middle of Tinkering. It's understandable,”_ she replied with a hint of a smile.  _“Go ahead. I'll clean up here.”_  Suiting action to word, she started the waldos moving again, clearing away his workshop faster and more efficiently than he would've been able to.  
  
“Okay, fine,” he conceded. Picking up his helmet from the bench, he put it on first, then let it power up while he was donning the gauntlets. The self-test showed his armour to be green across the board, with two exceptions; the red lights for those blinked out as the gauntlets linked into his armour's systems. “Wish me luck.”  
  
“ _Good luck,”_ she said cheerfully as two of the larger waldos transferred the Halberd to a holding rack.  _“Just remember, whatever you do: don't be yourself.”_  She chuckled as she said it, so that was probably a joke. He hoped.  
  
“Very funny,” he snapped. This time she did laugh, so he decided that he'd been correct in his assumption. “Who else would I be, anyway?” An eye-flick to the helmet HUD sent the correct signal to his workshop door and it opened before him.  
  
“ _The mind boggles,”_ she replied to his back; from her tone, she was almost definitely smirking.  _“Assault, maybe. Or possibly Velocity.”_  
  
He managed to escape before any more possibilities occurred to her. She hadn't mentioned Dauntless, which he suspected was due to her knowledge of how Colin felt about the man. Colin was still touchy about any comparison to him which, while it wasn't Dauntless' fault  _exactly,_ still led to tensions within the team.  
  
Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, he strode into Director Piggot's office. He waited until the door was closed and locked behind him before he took off his helmet. The issue wasn't with the helmet; as ergonomically comfortable as he'd designed it, he could wear it all day without a problem. However, he knew damn well that Piggot liked to look people in the eye while she tore strips off of them, so off it came. It was easier all round to not aggravate her on the matter, especially with her given mood. “Reporting as directed, ma'am,” he said.  
  
“Good.” He was relieved to note that she didn't look or sound as angry as she'd been over the phone. Also, oddly enough, she didn't seem to have a performance review document in front of her. “Have a seat.”  
  
He blinked. “Ma'am?” It was standard procedure for the individual being reviewed to remain standing. This kept them alert and reduced the chance of complacency. He began to wonder what was  _really_ going on. Nothing else about Piggot was out of the ordinary, but that didn't mean she  _hadn't_ been Mastered, or replaced by a Stranger.  
  
She flicked a hand; the irritable gesture was one he'd seen a thousand times before. “I said, sit down. This is not a performance review. That was merely a ruse to get you into this office in such a way that every rumour-monger in this building is commiserating with your plight rather than wondering what's really going on.” Her steel-grey eyes became flinty with anger. “What you hear in this room goes no farther without my express order. Do I make myself absolutely clear?”  
  
“Yes, ma'am.” Belatedly, he lowered himself into the reinforced chair. “What's the problem?” Whatever it was, for Piggot to be going to these lengths to keep the information so secure, it couldn't be good.  
  
“The  _problem,_  Armsmaster, is that we've lost Pathfinder and Compass Rose.” Her voice was brimming with anger as she spoke. Before he could ask, she went on. “No, they aren't dead. It's worse than that. Three days ago, Pathfinder decided to go off the reservation, and of course Compass Rose went along with him. You may have noticed the distinct slump in gang-related crime over the past few nights?”  
  
Colin had indeed noted it, but he'd reached the tentative conclusion that the gangs were holding off for something big. The gangs could always be relied on to screw things up in some way or another, usually when the PRT was looking in the wrong direction. “I'm assuming it's connected in some way?” Then a couple of very large dots connected in his head. “Wait—you're saying that Pathfinder  _did_ something to them?”  
  
The Director looked mad enough to chew up horseshoes and spit out nails. “Yes. He even took me along for the ride. Kaiser, Uber and L33t, and Accord. They all got the same treatment. He threatened to disappear them if they didn't leave town—or in Accord's case, promise never to come to Brockton Bay in the first place. They all agreed, except for Kaiser. As far as I know, he's still down there, wherever Pathfinder left him.” She subsided, still visibly seething.  
  
“'Down there'?” Armsmaster frowned. “Where?” The phrase sounded ominous.  
  
“Underwater,” she replied shortly. “Somewhere. He said it was half a mile under the Atlantic, but I'm no diving expert. Any part of that statement could've been a lie. But I have no doubt that it was an infeasible distance under the ocean in some direction. And as far as I know, Kaiser's  _still there.”_  
  
To say that this put a new complexion on matters was to seriously understate the situation. “That … could be very bad. Especially if the other villains find out about it.” He didn't know exactly  _what_  they'd do—villains, as a whole, tended to forego the whole 'cooperation' thing unless matters were dire—but it wouldn't be good. Of course, this counted as 'dire' almost by definition. “What's been done about Pathfinder?”  
  
“Nothing, yet.” Piggot's expression twisted. “Officially, he's on paid leave, along with Compass Rose. Unofficially, he's been fired. After he left me here, he teleported away again. I've been spending the time in between doing my best to locate where Kaiser may have been taken, and hoping that Pathfinder has an attack of common sense. Unfortunately, neither one has panned out.”  
  
“That's … bad,” he said. “Possibly catastrophic, even.” He was aware of the understatement even as he spoke the words.  
  
The grimace on her face assured him that she had the same thought in mind. “And after all the work we did to ensure that nobody would pick them as father and daughter, or reveal their incestuous relationship.” Her fist thudded on the desk. “I should've realised that  _nobody_  is as good as they seem. Capes especially.”  
  
“Well, yes.” He nodded and tried to recall if there was a specific PRT directive covering this kind of situation. None came to mind immediately.  _In the case of superheroes leaving supervillains to starve to death without official permission …_  “So, what are you planning to do about it?”  
  
Her expression twisted sharply. “I'm telling  _you_ , in the hope that you can provide some new insight that I can use. I'm  _not_  going to be telling the rest of the PRT or Protectorate unless I absolutely have to.” She skewered him with a look. “Do you understand why?” It was less a question than a statement:  _if you don't understand why, ask._  
  
He nodded slowly. “If the PRT were alerted, they would almost certainly go on the offensive against Pathfinder and Compass Rose. This could be … bad.” Which was, he knew, a massive understatement. Any single member of the PRT was impossible to hide from Compass Rose, and was always vulnerable to being grabbed by Pathfinder. Anyone coordinating an attack against the two of them would be an obvious target, and key members of the Protectorate could likewise be put out of the way with relative ease. He didn't  _think_  the Triumvirate would be any sort of pushover, even to those two, but if matters got out of control to  _that_  extent, both he and Emily would be looking for new work.  _And I've worked too hard to get where I am._  
  
Piggot nodded grimly. “We understand each other, then. Unless and until they start targeting PRT or Protectorate assets, we keep this on the down-low. We won't be idle, however; we'll continue to try to gather whatever information we can on their movements and activities. And by 'we', I mean 'you'.” She gave him a meaningful look.  
  
At last, the reason she'd told him about this dawned on him. “And by 'me' you mean 'Dragon'. Correct?” He could've kicked himself for not figuring it out earlier. Piggot was old-school PRT; if she decided a secret needed to be kept, she'd take it to her grave. There was no way in hell she would've just decided to bring him into the loop, local head of the Protectorate or otherwise. But his secure comms link with Dragon would let him tell the Tinker without anyone else getting wind of it.  
  
She favoured his realisation with a slight inclination of her head. “Very good, Armsmaster. Tell her from me that she's got full authorisation to search every traffic cam, every CCTV database, every repository of public footage she can access within the jurisdiction of the PRT. I want to know where Daniel and Taylor Hebert have gone and where they're staying. We  _need_  to find them before they do this again, and perhaps kick off a cape war.”  
  
Armsmaster nodded. “I'll tell her.” He rose and picked up his helmet. “Was there anything else, ma'am?”  
  
“Yes.” She smiled briefly. “Find them for me and you won't have to worry about the performance review.” What she left unsaid, of course, was  _fail to find them and it's your ass._  Still, he heard it loud and clear.  
  
“Message received and understood, Director.” He fitted his helmet back on to his head. As it reconnected to his armour, he watched the status reports ripple across the visor HUD.  
  
“Good.” She nodded sharply. Reaching across to her computer, she turned it on. “And one other thing.”  
  
He turned his head to look at her. “Ma'am?”  
  
Her expression wasn't quite a smile. “Remember that you've just had the singular displeasure of being reviewed by me. We don't want people getting suspicious.”  
  
It wasn't often that he smiled, but this was one of those times. “You're assuming this  _wasn't_  an unpleasant surprise, ma'am.”  
  
Slowly, she nodded. “Understood. Now get to work.”  
  
Turning, he went to the door and opened it, his jaw already setting grimly. As he strode along the passage toward the elevator, he couldn't help wondering.  _Where the hell have they gone? And what are they **doing**?_  
  


<><>

  
**Wards Base**  
  
 **PRT Building ENE**  
  
 **0859 Hours EDT**  
  
 **Sunday, May 29, 2011**  
  
 **(Three Days Earlier)**  
  
Lisa keyed the mic. “Clockie, you might want to check around the corner to your right. The last one's hiding behind the dumpster there.” She grinned as she leaned back in the chair and stretched. Being in the Wards was actually kinda fun, now that she was used to it. Rachel was patrolling with Armsmaster all the time now; the pairing made for a rough and ready kind of teamwork that was nonetheless very effective, not to mention efficient. Of course, Rachel and even Brian were better at the field work than Lisa, but she didn't mind riding the console desk at all.  
  
“ _Got him!”_  Clockblocker's voice was a crow of triumph.  _“Insight, you're friggin' awesome!”_  
  
“Yeah. I know.” Lisa turned and offered Aisha a high-five. The younger girl laid off on munching popcorn to return it. Technically, Aisha was undergoing training to become a Ward while her costume and name were finalised. In reality, she hadn't felt like going out and about that day, and she couldn't stay at home alone while Brian was on duty. Lisa had just about weaned her of the habit of throwing popcorn at the computer screens, but she didn't think Aisha would ever really do well on monitor duty. There was a certain lack of attention span going on there.  
  
“Hey, Lise.” Kid Win—Chris—pulled out a chair and sat down, just as the hour ticked over. “Anything happening I need to know about?” He was the only Ward, apart from Lisa, who honestly seemed to enjoy monitor duty. He also had a strong crush on Taylor, which was kind of sad.  
  
“Clockblocker and Aegis are dealing with some smash and grab idiots down on the Boardwalk,” she reported crisply. “Vista and Gallant are signing autographs at the Forsberg Gallery. No trouble reported there. Board's pretty well clear.” She clicked the mouse to sign herself out of the system, then pushed herself away from the monitor desk, letting the chair roll to a stop before she got up. “All yours.”  
  
“Sure thing,” he agreed, rolling his chair over to take up her vacated slot. “So, how you getting on with learning the monitors, Aish?”  
  
Aisha rolled her eyes. “I can  _do_  it,” she said. “But after about ten minutes of the same shit all the time, I just wanna jam a pen in my eyesocket, you get me?” She spun her chair in a circle. “It's so fucking  _boring.”_  Dropping her heels to the floor so the chair dragged to a halt, she leaped up. “So, Lisa. One on one? You pick the game.”  
  
Lisa chuckled. “Gimme five. Just gotta go tinkle and wash my face. Set the game up. You pick which one.” She rose from the chair and stretched again, rotating her shoulders from side to side, which caused three different vertebrae to click in her back. Sitting still for long periods of time did that. Still, it was better than being shot at, or chased by murderous supervillains. Humming a tune, she meandered off toward the bathrooms, stopping at the kitchenette to set the coffee machine going. If there was one real benefit to being in the Wards, it was that they had an excellent coffee machine.  
  
As she entered the Wards' bathrooms, she could hear Aisha cackling as she sorted happily through the stack of games next to the console. With a grin, she suppressed her power so that she wouldn't figure out what the game was going to be before she got back out there. Which, in turn, was why she was caught unawares when brownish-purple smoke billowed before her. A gloved hand grabbed her arm; before she could even yelp in surprise, she was standing on an uneven expanse of red sandstone. And, oh yeah. It was night-time again.  
  
“What the  _fuck?”_  she demanded, letting her power out to play.  _Constellations indicate southern hemisphere. Time of night would make it Australia. I'm standing on that thing they call Ayers Rock._ “Why are we in goddamn  _Australia?”_  On the heels of her question, her power probed the two capes before her. “You've done something. Screwed up. Pissed off Piggot. And now you want something from me.”  
  
“We're here because it's remote, there's photos of it, and nobody comes up here after dark,” Pathfinder explained.  _“You're_  here because we need some information from you.” A flashlight clicked on, and she saw that he was offering her a notepad and pen. “Specifically, a list of people.”  
  
“What people?” she asked blankly.  
  
He told her.  
  


<><>

  
**Baumann Parahuman Containment Center**  
  
 **British Columbia**  
  
 **0555 Hours PDT**  
  
 **Sunday, May 29, 2011**  
  
The first that Paige knew of Susie being awake was when her pyjama top was pushed up and a warm hand cupped around her left breast. “Morning, girlfriend,” her cellmate murmured. “You were really into it last night. Never thought you'd go that far.”  
  
Paige blushed in the dimness of the cell. She'd never thought she would either. It was nice to be touched and held, but she'd been reluctant to go further, at least until Susie had brought back the bottle of home-made booze from the swap meet. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what Susie had swapped for it, because she hadn't taken anything valuable with her.  
  
The alcohol had been nearly tasteless and she'd had too much of it. Her blush deepened as she recalled exactly what she'd done with, and to, Susie. The strap-on dildo belonged to their neighbours, but Susie had managed to borrow it; Paige recalled grunting, holding on to Susie's hips, as she fucked her cellmate to one orgasm after another. The obscenities that had spilled from Susie's lips had merely served to spur Paige on until they'd collapsed in a sweaty mess. Then, of course, Susie had claimed the sex toy and Paige hadn't argued. In fact, she'd offered herself willingly, shamelessly, to Susie's advances. Now, she felt sore in both her pussy and ass, and she knew that Susie had to feel the same way.  
  
When they'd begun their relationship, it had been barely worth the name. One more tiny sacrifice to be made in order to survive inside the Birdcage. It wasn't as though Susie—Lantrai—had ever forced herself on Paige, or was even really a lesbian, any more than Paige was. But they were cellmates, and both were reasonably pretty. This meant that one of the top girls in Lustrum's coterie would take notice of them sooner or later, and the 'courtship' would begin. Rather than be forced into something that they definitely didn't want to do, they'd turned to each other. It wasn't love, or even any sort of real passion, but it helped ease the loneliness a little. The trouble was that sometimes Susie got a little clingy and wanted to share Paige's bunk, just to cuddle. Sometimes Paige was okay with this, but more often she was not. It was easier not to complain, though, so she just went along with it. And on this occasion, the alcohol had led to rather more than Paige had been prepared for.  
  
Susie, being the taller of them, was behind Paige with a hand cupping her naked breast; she didn't seem to mind that this put her back up against the cell wall. Paige had to admit that it was just a little bit of a turn-on, especially when Susie murmured particularly salacious suggestions into her ear. Even as she wondered if they'd ever get back to the way things were, she felt Susie pulling her pyjama bottoms down. Susie's free hand wandered over her buttocks, then slid into the cleft of her ass. She shivered and pushed her ass back at the invading hand; while she didn't  _want_  this to happen, the memory of pleasure was too strong.  
  
When she felt the phallus push between her thighs, her eyes widened. Susie's hand was already stroking her labia, nimble fingers parting her folds of flesh, and she knew that she was going to give in so very soon. “Please,” she whimpered.  
  
“Please what?” Susie's nails dug lightly into her breast, and her nipples hardened almost instantly. “You gonna beg me to fuck you? Because that turns me on so goddamn hard.”  
  
Paige swallowed. “Take your clothes off. I want to see your body. And get on top. Kiss me. Tell me you love me.” This was a huge step, she knew. This was acknowledging the feelings that Susie was awakening in her. There would be no way back from this, no way back to the nice, safe semi-celibate pairing that they'd had before.  
  
Susie gave a low, throaty laugh. “Oh, you dirty, dirty girl. I  _knew_ you were getting into it.” She wriggled over Paige's body, pressing her substantial breasts against her as she went, then climbed out of bed altogether. She was, of course, still wearing the makeshift sex toy; as she pulled her top over her head, it jutted out proudly from her hips. Paige watched as her breasts changed shape, trying to feel the same excitement that had driven her last night. She licked her lips as the dildo swayed toward her, recalling how she'd bent Susie over the bunk and taken her like a common whore. The fire and excitement in her belly as she screwed her bunkmate with lustful abandon, then let Susie do exactly the same to her.  
  
The orgasms had been  _amazing._  
  
Slowly, she stood up and let her pyjama bottoms fall to the floor. She took the hem of her top in her hands and lifted it up, pulling it over her head and dropping it to the floor. This left her naked before Susie, entirely vulnerable and open to the plastic cock with which she would soon be begging the other woman to fuck her. Her heart was beating faster than ever as she stepped forward and tentatively kissed Susie, the first time she'd ever initiated intimate play. At least, sober.  
  
Susie returned the kiss, her lips plundering Paige's, their tongues twining erotically together. Paige felt the excitement beginning to overtake her once more; without breaking the kiss, she let herself sag back toward the bunk. Their lips only slipped apart when Paige lay down properly, spreading her legs wide to accommodate her lover. She felt wanton, abandoned … anticipatory. So long she'd been denying herself this.  
  
“God, I love you.” Susie's voice was rough with desire. “I never knew how much till last night. I never knew how much I was into girls till last night. I'm gonna fuck you till you can't stand it.” She knelt between Paige's willingly spread thighs and reached forward to cup her breasts. Paige caught her breath as she felt her nipples being pinched, a sharp thrill of pleasure darting down to add to her roiling excitement.  
  
Susie bent her head over Paige's crotch. Feathers grew there as well, but fortunately not in any abundance. Paige clutched at her own breasts and bit her lip as she felt the first touch of Susie's mischievous tongue. It was followed by more, causing wave after wave of orgasmic bliss to smash through her brain. And then, as she was recovering from that, Susie was on top of her. Paige cried out as the dildo pushed into her, parting her delicate labia and possessing her tight pussy. She clutched at Susie as she felt the plastic cock ram itself into her to the very hilt, where it had been many times on the previous night. Now, it felt huge, as though it were stretching her wider than she'd ever been before.  
  
Her nails dug into Susie's back, eliciting another thrust, almost as rough, as Susie kissed her hard. She felt as though she were being ravished, taken almost against her will. This perversely excited her, and she dug her nails in harder. Blood started from her lip where Susie's teeth nipped at it, but she didn't care. All she cared about was the mounting tide of pleasure between her legs, as Susie fucked her unmercifully with the strap-on dildo.  
  
She barely noticed when the large burst of purple-brown smoke erupted into the middle of the cell. Arching her back, she reached down under Susie and rubbed hard at her clit, triggering her first climax of the day. At the same time, a hand grabbed her by the arm. She cried out, arching her back in orgasmic pleasure … and landed on soft, fluffy sand, with Susie still on top of her.  
  
Still reeling in the aftermath of the orgasm, Paige had no idea what was going on. Susie wasn't much better; she thrust several more times into Paige's wet and very willing pussy before she registered that she was kneeling on sand. Opening her eyes, she met Paige's wide-open gaze, then looked around with some astonishment.  
  
“What the hell?” Susie pulled the dildo out of Paige as she got up, staring at the man and woman who stood a short distance away. Paige also got up, although she was acutely aware of her own nakedness, not to mention the fact she'd just been having her brains screwed out. “Who the fuck are you, and where in goddamn hell are we?”  
  
Paige didn't say a word; she just looked around as she brushed the sand out of her hair and off her back and butt. They were standing on a beach, composed of the same fluffy white sand that was still clinging to parts of her anatomy. Overhead, the sun sent slivers of brilliance down between the fronds of a huge palm tree. Looking out at the expanse of sand, she had to shade her eyes from the reflected glare of the sun, and from its glitter off the small wavelets making their way into shore. The ocean, and the sky above it, looked so gorgeously  _blue_  that it made her chest hurt.  
  
She didn't know where she was, but she knew this much:  _I'm out of the Birdcage._  
  


<><>

  
**Wards Base**  
  
 **PRT Building ENE**  
  
 **At the Same Time**  
  
Lisa finished washing her hands and strolled out of the bathroom, her head still spinning from what had just happened. While she wasn't really sure what Pathfinder and Compass Rose had done to earn the Director's ire, she owed them so much—for Coil and the Undersiders both—that she hadn't even considered not giving them what they wanted.  _Though what they want with the names of the Birdcage inmates who got shafted, I really don't want to know._  
  
“Hey, you all right there, Lisa?” Aisha craned her head around from the sofa as the game screen began to load. “You spent so long, I was startin' to worry. Thought you mighta got lost.”  
  
Chris' head began to turn.  _Shit—no. Move along, nothing weird going on here._  “Hah, no,” Lisa said with a smile that felt like a weak imitation of her usual smartass grin. “But you might want to wait a while if you need to go. Kinda unpleasant in there right now.”  
  
Aisha cackled out loud, while Chris whipped his head back around to study the monitor screens with commendable intensity. “Oh, man. That takes me back. Remember pizza night in the old hideout? How Brian always used to order anchovies on the pizza?”  
  
Lisa remembered all too well. Brian was a nice guy, but letting him eat anchovies led to the bathroom being uninhabitable by man or beast for the next twenty-four hours. So it fell to Lisa to distract him while Regent snuck the phone into the other room and changed the order. Brian always bitched about how they screwed up the order, and they never told him why.  
  
“Why?” asked Chris, evidently screwing up his courage to ask the question. “What's wrong with anchovies on pizza?”  
  
Lisa shook her head gently, even as Aisha cackled again. “Just … if you guys are ever getting pizza in, and Tenebrae wants anchovies, don't let him have them. Just don't.”  
  
“Ah.” This was a subject Chris was apparently familiar with. “So noted. Aegis is the same with mushrooms. I have no idea why. Apparently super-adaptability doesn't translate to making that sort of thing  _not_  stink.”  
  
Aisha laughed so hard she fell off the couch.  
  


<><>

  
**Somewhere in the Tropics**  
  
 **1410 Hours GMT**  
  
 **Sunday, May 29, 2011**  
  
“We're on a small island off the coast of Africa.” It was the man who spoke. While both of the capes were taller than Paige, he was significantly more so. In addition, the long-coat gave him a certain air of authority. “As for how you got here, we teleported you. I'm Pathfinder, this is Compass Rose.”  
  
“Woooo!” screamed Susie, then grabbed Paige and spun her around in a circle. “I don't know how the hell you pulled this off, girlfriend, but I love you for it! We're outta the  _Cage_ , baby!” Pulling Paige close, she delivered a passionate kiss to the singer's lips. “Now let's go find a bar and a motel room, so we can get drunk and fuck each other stupid and forget the last six fuckin' months!”  
  
“There's more to it than that,” Pathfinder said. His goggles were tinted, but Paige thought he might be checking her out. “We have it on good authority that you really shouldn't have been in the Birdcage at all. But you weren't the only ones.”  
  
Paige didn't know about anyone else, except for Susie of course, but the rush of relief was almost palpable. Finally, someone was paying attention! “I shouldn't have been there at all,” she replied, as calmly as she could manage. “But they wouldn't let me talk at the trial, and the judge ignored the three-strikes rule and sentenced me to the Birdcage even though I'd never done anything else wrong.” She felt hot tears stinging her eyes at the reminder of how the trial had gone. A torture device masquerading as a gag, Brute-level restraints, and her hands submerged in buckets of containment foam; they couldn't have done a better job of portraying her as a dangerous parahuman if they'd  _tried._ Paige still wasn't convinced her so-called lawyer had even been there to try to defend her. Maybe he was there just to make it look good while they twisted the law into a pretzel in order to condemn her to the closest approximation of Hell that existed on Earth Bet.  _I wish I could've told **him**  to go fuck himself._ But she didn't really mean that. Violence, in any form, was anathema to her.  
  
He gave her another solid up and down. “That's what I thought,” he agreed. “And you?” Momentarily, his head turned toward Susie.  
  
Paige's lover left off eyeing Compass Rose and nodded firmly. “Yeah, that was bullshit. I needed some money, so I took the mayor of some midwest town hostage, along with his family. Then I told 'em to pay part of the ransom in cheeseburgers, because I got hungry. I didn't know it at the time, but they drugged the burgers. So when I gave the mayor's kids some, they got sick. Allergic reaction. The youngest one died. It all got blamed on me, the mayor called in some favours, and I got Birdcaged.” She put her hands on her hips, supremely unconcerned with her nakedness. The dildo wobbled again. “Like I said, bullshit.”  
  
“But you never intended for anyone to get hurt?” The girl—she was almost as tall as Pathfinder, but Paige put her at maybe eighteen or nineteen—couldn't seem to tear her attention away from Susie's ample bosom.  
  
Susie shook her head, her short dreadlocks whipping from side to side. “Fuck, no. I was really cut up about it. All I was doing—trying to do—was get some money in a hurry.” She stepped closer to Compass Rose. “So who do I have to fuck to get you to let us stay here?”  
  
Compass Rose shook her head. “Not a good idea. Nobody lives here. There's no fresh water, and no reliable food source. The closest civilisation is fifty miles that way.” She pointed out over the ocean. If she squinted, Paige fancied she could see a faint shadow on the horizon.  
  
“The hell? Why'd you bring us here then? Is this some sort of sick fuckin' joke to you?” The irony, of course, was that while Susie could fly, she could only cover a dozen or so miles at a time. Paige knew this because Susie had told her; she wondered if the newcomers also knew it.  
  
“We brought you here because we wanted to talk to you in private,” Pathfinder said. “And we didn't want to wait around until you finished.”  
  
Paige inhaled the breeze that came in off the ocean, redolent with the odours of salt and seaweed. While she'd never been one for the beach, it was the most glorious thing she'd ever smelt. “Um, so what happens now? And who are you here for? Me or her?”  
  
“Both of you, in fact,” agreed Compass Rose. “I've studied your files, just in case there was ever a breakout from the Birdcage, and because I was kind of curious. And it turns out there's a certain number of you who don't deserve to be in there.” She looked from Paige to Susie. “Also, because we've become less than convinced that the PRT knows what it's doing, these days.”  
  
“Okay,” said Susie. “So why bring us here? Instead of, say, LA? Or hell, even Jersey? Why the middle of goddamn nowhere?” Her fists had unclenched, and she looked more curious than angry now.  
  
“Because we didn't want you just bolting on us.” Pathfinder unfolded his arms. “You wouldn't get away, but it'd be awkward and irritating to round you up again. Besides, we've got another reason. Specifically, we need to hide out for a while, and the Birdcage is the one place on Earth that nobody will be looking for us.”  
  
Paige stared at him. “You want to …  _stay_  there?” She shook her head. “That's …” Words failed her, and she shook her head again. “I can't even …”  
  
“It's so goddamn crazy it's brilliant,” Susie said. “You're right. Nobody's gonna come looking for you there. But you're  _also_  locking yourselves in with the most terrifying fucking villains in the world. Ever think of that?”  
  
Pathfinder waggled his hand from one side to the other. “Well, for that matter, I was thinking of putting something to them. Something that might ease tensions a little, at least until we can work out a more permanent arrangement.” He paused, most likely for effect. “I was thinking of introducing the concept of 'day release' to the Birdcage.”  
  



End file.
